


New

by Lady Angel (dameange)



Series: AZA (After the Zombie Apocalypse) [5]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), NCIS, Resident Evil (Movieverse), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Alternate Universe - Zombies, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Crossovers, Werewolf Sheriff Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-17 09:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameange/pseuds/Lady%20Angel
Summary: Newcomers. New reality. New home. New love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a third person POV of what coming to Beacon Hills was like after roaming a zombie-infested US. I chose some of my favorite other TV show characters to do it. If you recognize the name and character, they’re not mine. If you don’t, they’re most likely of my own creation.

“Hotch, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Aaron Hotchner thought he had been hallucinating when he saw the grey wall raising out of the trees but the sign he was now reading truly cinched it. 

The wall had been majestic. That really was the only word he could think of to describe it. Clean and grey in color, smooth concrete that had been professionally made, at least three stories tall. It was no hastily put together barricade against the zombies. This wall had been planned and skillfully installed. It looked like it was built to withstand the test of time. 

The wall had blocked the road their buses was on, cutting right across the road, forcing them to back up and go around. Thanks to Reid’s eidetic memory they were able to navigate along the wall until they found the gate. Above which was the sign that Gibbs had been referring to, having seen it from the driver’s seat of the other bus. The sign had been professionally printed on a shiny metal plate and hung perfectly straight and securely fastened to the wall.

“Reid, where are we?” Aaron asked from his own driver’s seat, easing on the brake to bring them to a stop behind Gibbs’ bus. 

“Beacon Hills, California,” Reid promptly supplied from directly behind him where he had been serving as their navigational system. “Well, the road leading to Beacon Hills.”

“So the rumors are true.” Rossi was carefully making his way up towards the front of the Grey Hound bus they had stolen years ago. Thanks to careful modifications and care it had served them well these last four years as they made their way across the country, further and further away from the zombie-controlled East coast.

“An entire town walled off and protected against zombies. I can’t believe it.” Morgan sat down with Hank in his lap, showing his son what they were all seeing. The five year old stared in awe. They had heard gossip of a town who had been forewarned and had taken precautions even as many other cities denied the reality of zombies as hysteria or believed the Umbrella Corporation’s propaganda that they would have a cure in just a few weeks’ time.

“Yeah, but is it too good to be true?” Prentiss slipped in next to Rossi. She was followed by the rest of their adopted family. JJ, Will, their boys, their daughter. Garcia and Kevin Lynch. Rossi’s daughter and her family. Aaron’s sister-in-law, Jessica, and Beth, who slipped her fingers into his hand as she joined him up front. They all wanted to see.

Jack had been beside Reid the entire time since, between giving directions, Reid was teaching him geometry. Lessons were now forgotten as they all stared at the sign on the wall.

_We still follow the laws established by the United States of America. If you are willing to follow them and accept the consequences if you don’t, then you are welcomed inside these walls._

__

_1\. Drive straight towards the gate._  
_2\. Honk your horn when you’re about to pass the red posts._  
_3\. Maintain a speed of 45 miles/hr._  
_4\. Drive straight through the tunnel after passing through the gates._  
_5\. DO NOT STOP UNTIL YOU SEE THE GIANT ASS, RED STOP SIGN._

_____ _

__

The radio crackled as Gibbs’ voice came over again. “Thoughts?”

“Is it too good to be true?” Aaron echoed Emily’s question, mind whirling as he set the radio to continuously transmit both sides of their conversation. 

Gibbs snorted. “Same thing was asked over here.”

They had found shelter in different places before. The longest they had been able to stay in once place had been at Ellie Bishop’s family farm in Oklahoma. The entire Bishop family had been there and they had lasted a little over a year before the zombies overran them and the supplies started to dwindle. They had stayed because it was a safe but Ellie and her brothers had been ready to leave when they lost their mother to the flu the previous winter. McGee’s mother had been lost the winter before that. They had almost lost Ducky and Palmer’s daughter that winter too.

Other places hadn’t been as safe. 

“As long as they’re not cannibals like that one place in Utah,” Tony DiNozzo said loud and clear through the radio.

“Or the slave trading place in New Mexico,” JJ’s husband drawled from where he and JJ were curled around Sarah, their youngest child who was just getting over a cold. Will rubbed at his shoulder, his arm never the same after taking a bullet while helping the rest of them escape. Thank God for Ducky and Palmer. 

“We’ll never know unless we go in,” Kevin pointed out, the voice of reason and optimism. 

“It’ll be hard to escape from a place like this,” Fornell said. The FBI agent was in the other bus with Gibbs and his NCIS team. The other places they had found had makeshift walls to keep out the zombies, nothing like the massive concrete barrier that rose before them, easier to escape from when necessary. “If we need to. Maybe some of us should check it out first?”

“We’re running low on supplies,” Garcia refuted from where she stood near their stores, a pensive frown on her lips. “We’ve got enough water for three weeks, but the food.” She trailed off, shaking her head. 

Aaron twisted in his seat to see their pitiful supply of canned food. He knew the other bus had just as little. It was a gamble. Should they ask for entrance, knowing that they would be trapped if this place was like the others? Or should they continue on, hoping that they could find food, shelter, medicine? All three had been scarce in this area, perhaps due to this very town. God knows how far the Beacon Hills people had scavenged, leaving the area around the town completely devoid of resources. 

In the end, it was Ducky’s tired, weak voice that swayed them. “I should like to rest in warmth again.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Anyone voting against this?” Aaron turned in his seat to look everyone in the eye. His team, his family, all shook their heads no. The people they had helped and stayed with them along the way -- the Simpsons with their seven year old daughter and three year old boy, the teenage Patels who had been forced onto the bus by their elderly grandmother while she stayed behind, and the brothers Mike and Joe Hanson – all shook their heads no too.

“We’re a go over here,” Aaron told Gibbs.

“Same.” Gibbs directed his bus towards the gates, driving right over the few zombies that were in front of the gate. Aaron followed him.

The gates smoothly opened at the honk of their horns. The tunnel was chain link and long, nearly half a mile. As soon as they pass the gate it slammed down. After the first 100 yards, another slam startled Aaron enough that he jerked the wheel, quickly correcting. “What was that?”

“Another gate,” Morgan reported. “It trapped any of the zombies that made it through the outer gate.”

Gunfire made them all duck but Aaron quickly realized it wasn’t aimed at them.

Morgan confirmed it. “They just took out the zombies that made it through.”

“Efficient,” Prentiss murmured, impressed.

Aaron didn’t respond as he eased the bus to a stop. He could see people converging on the buses from either side. It eased his mind a little when he saw the people. Not because they were clean and healthy looking, which they were. No, it was because amongst the large handful of people converging on the tunnel, he saw an African American man in a deputy’s uniform, a Hispanic woman toting a rifle stepping up behind a Middle Eastern man. They had come to look for obvious signs when they first entered a place. If they were greeted by a single gender, a single race, sometimes that didn’t bode well. Some places, in the heartland, it wasn’t a surprise, it was expected. However, it had made things a little awkward, if not downright disastrous when the people in those places had seen Morgan’s family, the Simpsons, the Patels, or noticed that Rossi was Joy’s father or that Lieutenant Reynolds’ wife was of Asian descent and their children were of mixed heritage. 

They didn’t stay long in those places.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills,” the African American deputy greeted them with the use of a bullhorn, pleasant even though his hand was on butt of his gun. “We’ll need everyone to step out of the buses, please. We need to check to make sure none of you are infected.”

For a long moment no one moved.

“Gibbs?”

“We might as well,” was Aaron’s answer.

Aaron nodded to himself as he turned to address everyone. “Keep your weapons on you. Shield the kids.” 

Everyone nodded and followed him out. Once off the buses they warily made their way towards the deputy. Aaron glanced at Gibbs when the former NCIS agent joined them, his team and the people on his bus close behind him. DiNozzo had his young daughter, his large hand on her hand, guiding her behind his leg. McGee and his wife followed behind. While Aaron couldn’t see it, he knew that Delilah had a gun hidden between her paralyzed legs and the seat of her wheelchair. More than one person had underestimated the former Department of Defense agent because of her disability. To their detriment, of course. Sarah McGee hid behind her brother, not making eye contact with anyone. McGee kept one hand wrapped around her wrist, his other on his gun. While his wife may be in a wheelchair, it was his sister – raped in the last place they had stopped – who needed his protection more. 

Bishop and her brothers were all armed and had strategically placed themselves around Abby as she supported Ducky, Palmer, his wife and daughter. Fornell stayed by his daughter’s side, nearly covering her even though Emily was taller than her father by a couple of inches and had her own gun. The Lopezes and Reynolds, both military families, were close behind. Nick Torres and Clayton Reeves brought up the rear.

Gibbs returned his look but so far no one was sending the subtle signals they had developed to warn each other of trouble.

Aaron turned his attention back to the deputy to see another man had joined him. Tall, dark haired, very muscular. He wore a t-shirt, jeans, and work boots. Nothing about him should have stood out amongst the other people there. Except that he carried no visible weapons. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Deputy Colin Okafor,” the deputy introduced himself, giving them a welcoming smile. “After we make sure that you’re not infected, we’ll release you from the tunnel.”

“How are you going to do that?” Palmer eagerly asked. “Did you find a cure?”

Aaron watched carefully, seeing the signs that the deputy was about to lie, but before he could call the man on it, he was distracted by the dark haired man. He was moving along the line of their people, stopping at each one. He didn’t engage anyone in any way. Merely stopped at each person, staring at them for a moment, before moving on. He went down the entire line before stopping at the Hanson brothers. 

It definitely wasn’t Aaron’s imagination when he heard a growl rumble from the man’s throat. 

“Derek?” Deputy Okafor stepped forward, his gun now drawn.

The guy, Derek, opened his mouth, but Mike Hanson point-blank shot him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Put your guns down!”  
“Hands up!”  
“Someone get the sheriff!”  
“Guns down!”  
“He’s a fuckin’ werewolf!”  
“Guns down! Hands up!”

A roar unlike anything Aaron had ever heard before echoed through the air, silencing everyone. It reverberated with pain, helplessness, caution. It was a call for help. 

The inhuman sound came from Derek.

Who was on the ground, writhing in pain. Corded muscle bunched and flex, hands clawing at the ground. But none of his own people approached him, instead they were focusing their attention on the Hanson brothers. 

“Put you guns on the ground, hands up in the air,” Deputy Okafor ordered through the silence.

“He’s a fuckin’ werewolf, man!” Mike argued.

Aaron blinked, turning to look at everyone else. They too must have heard what Mike had said because they were all blinking at him, some staring dumbfounded. Aaron had not pegged the man or his brother as delusional; no one on his team had. But Mike’s declaration turn his attention to the supposed werewolf rather than the people pointing guns at Mike. He stared at the man twisting on the ground, mind whirling. The roar was inhuman, no anatomical anomaly in any human could make such an animalistic roar. A sound that loud, that resounding, could not be made by a human. Then he saw the man’s face. His once handsome face was distorted, a more pronounced brow ridge, enlarged nasal bridge, and fangs. Aaron stared at the mouth full of fangs.

“We know that. Now put your weapons on the ground and your hands up in the air.”

“What?” More than one voice echoed the incredulous question, but the deputy ignored the question, focusing on the brothers. 

“Shit, Derek!”  
“Stiles is on his way!”  
“Daddy!”

Aaron whipped around. 

Three twenty somethings were converging on them, but they were running on _all fours_. Hands and feet moving in tandem, eating up the ground. It looked awkward as hell and should not have given them as much speed as they had. But fast they were. And their faces. 

The same as the man Mike had called a werewolf.

As ridiculous as it had sounded, Mike’s claim of werewolves was becoming more and more realistic than delusional. 

“Daddy!”  
“Caleb, no!”

A little boy, maybe five or six, with the same facial distortions lunged towards the fallen man but was caught by a curly hair man. Another young man, with a lopsided jaw, skidded to a stop beside the gunshot victim, immediately pulling the black t-shirt off his writhing friend, examining the wound.

“Oh fuck,” breathed the blonde woman who had dropped down near the victim’s head. Her hands immediately latched onto the man’s bare shoulders. Black lines began spiraling up her arms, following the pathway of her veins.

The little boy was struggling in the other man’s arms, crying and screaming for his father. Blood was dripping off the man’s arms. Aaron was horrified to see that the ends of the little boy’s fingers were tipped in claws and stained with blood. The man holding him didn’t seem to care, trying to calm the child, consoling him, rumbling in ineffective comfort.

“Colin, who shot him?” the lopsided man asked, shooting to his feet.

The deputy pointed at Mike, who immediately turned his gun onto the other man, snarling, “I know what you are!”

“I know, but you need to give me one of your bullets,” the man asked. Nicely. Calmly. Hand held out, palm up. His face was nothing but earnest and sincere. “We won’t hurt you. Please.”

The sound of horse hooves beating against the ground distracted Aaron from the tableau unfolding. Another young man rode up, brown hair, whiskey eyes. He immediately jumped off the horse. Not a single sign of being a werewolf in sight. Another werewolf, a blond male this time, was right on the heels of the horse.

“PAPA! Daddy’s hurt!”

“I know, baby.” The newcomer passed a hand over the little boy’s head, then squeezing the curly haired man’s shoulder, but his eyes were only for the gunshot victim.

Aaron stared as he realized the man holding the child was no longer bleeding. Wounds completely healed. 

“Scott?” The man was now shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend.

“He won’t give me any of his bullets, Stiles,” Scott answered, then, surprisingly, sent a pitying look at Mike before stepping back.

Stiles stepped forward.

Aaron had his gun up and pointed before he even consciously registered why: glowing white eyes. Stiles had glowing white eyes. 

People around them gasped. Not just his people, but the ones from Beacon Hills too. His gun wasn’t the only one pointed at the young man. The gasps came from everyone, but only the guns from his people were up and aimed at the otherworldly man.

“Since good cop didn’t work,” Stiles said, tone mocking, empty hand coming up. “It’s time for bad cop.”

“What are you?!” Mike yelled, gun wavering between Stiles and Scott.

“Derek’s mate.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aaron couldn’t believe his eyes. 

Mike was pressed into the roof of the tunnel. An invisible force holding him there. Joe was on the ground, unconscious after charging idiotically at the man called Stiles. A negligent wave of Stiles’ hand and Joe had fallen unconscious, not a mark or sign of trauma on him.

“Scott.”

With just his name, the other young man seemed to know his orders. He immediately **leaped** fifteen feet straight up into the air, landing agilely on the roof of the tunnel. He opened the hatch that was there and dropped straight inside. 

No one inside dared moved after seeing his distorted face and his physical ability. Scott quickly grabbed all of the Hanson brothers’ guns, carefully handling them. He even grabbed their knives, using his outer shirt to protect his hands.

“Boyd, please help Scott.” The new voice came from an older man bearing a sheriff’s badge. He was kneeling beside Derek, hands wrapped around one of his arms. As soon as the sheriff touched Derek he also had black lines wrapping up his arms.

An African American young man launched himself onto the tunnel, grabbing the first gun tossed to him. He immediately tossed it to the sheriff who cracked it open and extracted a bullet.

“I need a --”

“I’ll get it.” Stiles dropped his hand, Mike immediately fell to the ground, groaning in pain, barely able to move. Stiles gave no indication that he cared. He had lost all interest in them now that he had the bullets, turning towards his mate. 

Derek was panting and whining in pain, hands gripping the ground. Aaron bet he had claws that were sunk into the very earth. He barely noticed out of the corner of his eye when Scott and Boyd landed on the ground outside of the tunnel, glued as he was to watching the apparently magical Stiles and his _werewolf_ mate.

“Hold on, sourwolf.” Stiles raised his hand once more even as he leaned over to press a kiss to his mate’s lips. A blur of red appeared, flying through the air, landing in Stiles’ outstretched hand. It was a Frisbee. 

The sheriff dumped the gunpowder out of the bullet onto the toy; Stiles flicked his fingers over the powder. That was all it took for the gunpowder to burned purplish blue. 

Stiles straddled his mate’s lower hips. “Erica, left arm, please. Dad, hold his shoulders. Scott, his right. Jackson, Boyd, his legs.”

As they positioned themselves, Aaron strained to see what Stiles was going to do to help his _werewolf_ mate. A flick of his fingers and the bullet extracted itself, hanging in the air for a second before being flung to the side with a negligent flick of Stiles’ fingers. Stiles then carefully scooped up the burned powder and pressed it into the wound.

The roar was horrific: pain, anguish, defiance, power. Body bowing up despite Stiles’ weight, against Jackson and Boyd’s weights. Derek dropped back down, panting in relief, exhaustion. Immediately the others scrambled off of him, leaving only Stiles. 

“Lie still,” he gently ordered, leaning down to kiss his mate once more. “Let it completely heal before you do something stupid.”

Derek grumbled, but he did as he was told.

“Papa?” their son asked from where he still dangled in his caretaker’s arms, his voice small and scared.

“It’s all right, Caleb. Daddy’s going to be fine.” He held out his arms for their son, carefully maneuvering him so that the child could see his other father.

Derek reached up to take his son’s hands. “I’m all right, cub. Papa healed me.”

“I heard you! All the way at the school! You sounded so bad!” Caleb was careful as he leaned down, rubbing his face against this father’s, taking deep inhalations as if breathing him in.

“I know, cub, I know. But I’m all right now.” Derek nuzzled him in return. 

Hysterically, Aaron thought they reminded him of dogs sharing comfort with each other.

“Did you apologize to Isaac for hurting him?” Stiles gently reminded him.

Caleb gasped, jerking upright and nearly out of his parents’ hands. “Uncle Iyzee! I’m sorry I scratched you!”

Isaac’s smile was forgiving. “It’s okay, kiddo. I know you were worried about your dad.”

Caleb vigorously nodded, eyes immediately going back to his father. “I was!”

“But he’s all healed now.” Stiles swung himself off of his mate even as he surrendered all of Caleb’s weight to Derek. He pressed another kiss onto Derek’s lips, then one onto Caleb’s brow. “And he’s going to take you, Isaac, Erica, and Jackson on a quick run, okay? To make sure everything’s okay.”

Above Caleb’s enthusiastic nod, Stiles and Derek stared into each other’s eyes. Derek seemed reluctant to leave, but it was obvious that Stiles was winning the silent argument.

Aaron wondered if telepathy was a thing now too.

Certainly a human who unconsciously stripped themselves naked, transformed into a huge, black furred wolf creature, and ran off with part of his pack was a thing now.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

“All righty, then.” 

Aaron watched warily as Stiles clapped his hands together and smiled at them all. 

“Since none of you are infected, we can get this show on the road.” He paused when more riders arrived. The pattern here was pretty clear: human pack members on horses, werewolves on their own feet. Both kinds had come running when Derek had roared for help. An older man and two young women were the latest to arrive: one red head, the other a brunette. “Allison, Chris, just the two hunters I wanted to see.”

“What happened?” the brunette woman asked, a crossbow of all weapons in her hand. 

“That one,” Stiles flicked his fingers at the conscious Hanson brother; Mike flinched. “Shot Derek.”

The older man moved towards the tunnel, crouching to study Mike and Joe. “I don’t recognize them. They’re definitely not one of ours. What’s your name?” he finally addressed Mike directly.

“Go to --“ Mike grabbed at his throat as his words cut off. The way he was frantically clawing at his throat, his air was probably being cut off. Only words being cut off wouldn’t have caused such panic in his eyes.

“I suggest you answer Chris’ questions. You’ve already shot my mate, I’m not inclined to let you live.” Stiles said the threat so very mildly he could have been offering advice on fixing a flat tire. He let Mike struggle for air for a long moment more before dropping the spell.

Mike began heaving in great gulps of air, wide eyes staring at Stiles, pulse rabbit fast, fingers scrambling at the arms he had crossed over himself. Aaron did not blame the man one bit for every ounce of fear that his body displayed.

“What’s your name?” Chris repeated even as he frowned at Stiles.

“H-h-hanson. M-mike.” He nodded at his brother. “Joe, my uh my brother.”

Chris shook his head. “I haven’t heard that name. You must be new to hunting.”

The inflection in the last word, Aaron didn’t think he meant the regular kind of hunting.

“We started a, uh, a couple of years before the zombies?” Mike offered, seeming to find some measure of safety in Chris’ presence. He seemed to recognize something in the other man. During the time the brothers had been with them, they hadn’t raised any red flags neither amongst Aaron’s team nor Gibbs’. Between the FBI and NCIS teams, they had had a lot of experience dealing with the criminal and fringe elements of society. But the Hanson brothers hadn’t pinged on any of their radars. 

Of course, even with all of their experiences, magic and werewolves and the supernatural hadn’t pinged on their radar either, yet here they were.

“Who brought you in?”

“Oh, ah, Phillip? Phillip Anderson?” 

Chris nodded. “I know him, good man. Excellent hunter even with that leg of his.” 

Mike relaxed even further until the older man bent a severe look on him. “He told you about the Code, right?”

Mike hurriedly nodded, then paled, then rallied. “But the zombies--”

“Doesn’t negate the Code!” Chris admonished. “Was Derek attacking you?’

“Well, no--”

“Was he attacking someone else?”

“He--”

“We only hunt those who hunt us.” Chris pushed to his feet, glaring down at Mike, voice hard, eyes flinty. “The Hale pack helps keep Beacon Hills safe by keeping out the infection. They have been duly deputized by the leadership of this town. Unless you can tell me that Derek Hale was attacking an innocent person when you shot him, I can’t help you.”

Mike swallowed hard. His eyes strayed to his still unconscious older brother. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Chris frowned. “I leave the judgement of your fate to the Argent Matriarch.”

Mike gasped at the last name, obviously familiar. 

Aaron blinked in surprised when the young brunette woman stepped forward. She was maybe twenty years old, but when he saw her eyes, he could see that this was woman was no stranger to making those hard decisions. Those dark eyes stared Mike Hanson down.

“You have broken the Hunter’s Code and, in doing so, you broke the law established in Beacon Hills.” She spoke formally, as if she had been coached in saying this exact phrase. “You have attacked a supernatural being that was not harming innocent human life. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Mike took a deep breath, obviously giving himself a moment to think about his answer. Then hung his shaggy, dirty blond head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve even seen a werewolf, just these damn zombies, and its shoot to kill because that’s the only way my brother and I can be safe. I’ve never killed a werewolf and I didn’t mean to start. I’m sorry.”

It didn’t surprise Aaron one bit that the Argent Matriarch looked over to Stiles before making her decision. Stiles rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders then glanced at the sheriff who gave him a very paternal look, then nodded encouragingly and ran a hand through Stiles’ hair. Stiles turned his eyes in the direction his mate had taken off after swinging their son onto his back. The little boy had grabbed handfuls of fur and shrieked with glee as his transformed father loped away.

“All sincerity aside, if he or his brother tries anything else, the pack reserves the right to disembowel them.”

The sheriff coughed, shaking his head. 

Stiles heaved a great big sigh. “But only if doing so will save their life.”

The Argent Matriarch was trying to hide her smile, but her twitching lips gave her away. However, the moment she turned back to the Hanson brothers the smile was nowhere to be seen. “If you can agree to adhere to the Hunter’s Code and the laws established by the United States of American we will allow you to stay. However, all of your weapons and munitions will be forfeit.”

Mike stared at his still conscious brother and nodded.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Aaron stared around at the house he and his people had been led to after being released from the tunnel. The house was large, clean, filled with furniture and the knick knacks that would have accumulated in a little old woman’s life. Lydia, the redhead that had appeared with the Argents, had explained that the house had belonged to a Widow Jones, who had passed away without family in Beacon Hills more than two years ago from old age. Aaron had been amazed that anyone could still die from old age in this time of zombies and fallen civilization. 

The petite redhead had volunteered to escort them to the house, climbing into Gibbs’ bus to point the way. The young woman had been part of the werewolf pack, which was obvious in the way that she deferred to Stiles. She had stopped by his side after volunteering, receiving some kind of instruction from the way she nodded seriously, her intelligent green eyes carefully surveying them. One of the werewolves, the blond one that had gone off with Derek, had also kissed her before leaving – his mate, most likely. 

She had steered them towards this residential area where their long buses definitely stood out, but again, reassured them that they weren’t to be lured from their buses only to be robbed and left for dead like that one family in Tennessee had tried to do. Of course, the town might be trying to lull them into a false sense of security, but they would have to be the best actors and have set up the entire town to support this fallacy. The people who walked and biked through the residential area looked healthy, no fear in their eyes as they curiously took in the sight of their buses. The homes were well maintained, with gardens of food being grown in nearly every available green space. 

Most of the businesses they had seen were abandoned, but not in the normal, post-zombie apocalypse way. Instead, the businesses were intact: windows were unbroken even if they were dusty, doors were closed but not barred, walls were whole even if they bore the marks of faded graffiti. Each business, however, was completely empty. As if someone had methodically went through each store to empty them of anything and everything of use – even light bulbs and shelving. 

“It’s just like that outlet mall we found a few days ago,” Reid had murmured into Aaron’s ear as they drove through the town. “Now we know who did it.”

Aaron had nodded, easily driving the bus through the mostly clean streets – no debris, no bodies. It was like driving in a dream of the world before zombies had happened.

The house was big enough to fit all of them, minus the Hanson brothers who had been taken by the Agents after they and two of the werewolves had confiscated the brothers’ weapons and things. The werewolves seemed to have sniffed out something in the brothers’ things because they either sneezed or wrinkled their noses at certain things. Things that had been carefully picked up using t-shirts and outer shirts and passed to either Argents or Stiles. None of the rest of their things had been touch. It had surprised the hell out of the rest of them that they had been allowed to keep their weapons but it had reassured them as well.

Lydia had shown them the house, shown them the six bedrooms that had been filled with bunk beds instead of regular ones and the dining room filled with more bunk beds. “This is the house we use when a large group like yours come in,” she had explained. “There’s housing for smaller families and singles so if you decide to stay, we’ll move you to your own place. Don’t worry that you’ll be stuck here indefinitely.”

She showed them working bathrooms and told them that, while the electricity worked so central heating would be available in the upcoming cold months, all other electronic equipment had been removed or disabled from every home. “We have a working power plant, but we don’t know how long we’ll have to keep it going, so the use of electronic equipment is strictly forbidden in the individual houses. If you need to wash your clothes or have medical equipment that needs to be charged, you’ll have to go to one of the public houses or public spaces like the schools.” 

“What about food?” Aaron asked, the apparently useless refrigerator catching his eye. 

Lydia smiled. “All food is stored and prepared at the schools. We take our meals together as a community.”

That made his hackles rise. The Jonestown Massacre and Heaven’s Gate all had communal food sources that made poisoning easy.

Lydia must have seen something on his face because she raised an eyebrow. “The pack eats the same food served to everyone. The werewolves would smell any poisons or contaminated food instantly.”

“And the pack would care if a few humans get sick?” 

Aaron was surprised by Beth’s question, and there was a tone in her voice that he hadn’t heard before, but turned expectantly for Lydia’s answer because _werewolves_.

“Considering that most of the pack’s family members are human, yes.” The redhead seemed to sense something about Beth because she turned her full attention onto her. 

Aaron stepped closer to his girlfriend, ready to protect her.

“The Hale pack only has one born wolf, the rest were turned, so we have human family members. We are a part of this community, we are human regardless of our supernatural status.” Lydia, shorter than Beth by a good half a foot, stared her down. “And we protect our community.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I’m sure you have questions regarding Beacon Hills,” Lydia said after she finished showing them the house and gathered them into the living room. “But I’d like for you to hold them until after I give you the introduction we give everyone.” Like every other instructor Aaron ever had, she paused and surveyed the room to make sure she had their attention before continuing. “As the sign indicates, we adhere to the laws established by the US government, and by extension, the laws established by California and Beacon Hills before the zombie outbreak. However, we have two important addendums to our city laws: 1) We work, we eat and 2) Anyone who commits a felony and is found guilty by the Beacon Hills court of law is immediately put outside the wall and left to fend for themselves.”

Aaron digested this information. The second was fairly self-explanatory and it made sense. There was no way any town like this could support a prison population in the current circumstances. It was the first that concerned him. In this dystopian world, members who could not contribute to society were a drain on resources. But that begged the question: what counted as work? What could the old and infirmed do to contribute? Or were they abandoned outside the wall? 

Delilah spoke up, of course. “What kind of work?”

Lydia didn’t even blink at Delilah’s wheelchair. “Can you read and write? If so, we’re always looking for teachers to oversee the teaching of the children. Do you have the patience of a saint? Again, the babysitters are always looking for help. Are you computer literate and have a college degree or higher? You could work shifts at the power plant, ensuring that we have power.” She shrugged. “Working the crops, animal husbandry, cooking, cleaning, manning the gates, supply runs, healthcare. We need it all and we all contribute.”

Delilah nodded, appeased. McGee, who had been tensed, immediately relaxed.

“Additionally, if you have knowledge of resources or hazards outside of these walls, you can work with our archival team.”

Aaron smothered a laugh as Reid immediately shot his hand in the air, volunteering.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at his eagerness, but nodded. “I’ll send Danny over once you’re settled in.” Her eyes went to the children in the group but did not react when their parents immediately shielded them. “School for anyone 18 and under occurs nearly every other day: Monday, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. It goes year round and lasts from 9 AM until 6PM.”

“What do the kids do the other days?” Angela Lopez asked, hands protectively curving over her ten year old daughter’s shoulder.

“They work, of course.” Before anyone could protest, Lydia held up a restraining hand. “Children under the age of two do not do much, cleaning up the toys in their classroom, cleaning the small chalkboards they use to draw pictures, little things like that. The older children can help with easy ‘household’ chores: drying the plasticware we use to store the food, putting it up, folding the laundry, things like that. Every job is age appropriate,” she assured them, “but as I said, ‘we work, we eat.’”

Aaron could see that some of the parents weren’t too happy about it – those with very young children – but he could understand the need to have everyone contribute. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t thoroughly investigate any job Jack would be assigned before letting his twelve year old son do it. He wrapped his arms around his son’s thin shoulders, hoping for his son’s sake that dinner would not only be soon but also safe.

“What about college-age people,” Emily Fornell asked, pointing to herself and Jason Reynolds. While Pari Patel was still only seventeen, she would soon be eighteen. Prentiss wrapped her arm around the girl she had taken under her wing, along with her fifteen year old brother, Krish.

Lydia smiled at her fellow redhead. “We have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays but, depending on what you’re interested in studying, you may want an apprenticeship instead.”

The young people nodded.

“When Danny and his team gets here tomorrow, they’ll sit with each of you and ask about your skills or what you would be willing to do to help sustain Beacon Hills. They’ll also ask about your medical histories which will be filed with Beacon Hills General.”

A few people looked uneasy about that.

Lydia merely shrugged when she saw their reaction. “If you prefer to withhold your medical history until you actually need medical services, that’s your right. However, the last time newcomers had a medical emergency, they were unconscious and we found out too late that they had a severe allergy.”

Her face had hardened; it wasn’t necessary to ask what had happened to that particular newcomer.

“And how does medical care work here?” Garcia piped up.

Aaron didn’t look at Lydia for her answer because something in Garcia’s voice pinged his radar, the quaver in it. Instead, he watched Garcia. Her body language. _Kevin’s_ body language. He stifled any reaction knowing that Garcia would tell them in her own time, but he wasn’t surprised. Even though the two of them had parted years ago, it wasn’t farfetched for them to turn to each other for support and comfort now.

“It’s free,” Lydia answered simply. “Money is useless here. Again--”

“We work, we eat!” Hank piped up from Savannah’s lap.

Lydia smiled down at him, a sweet one, a proud one like a teacher with a bright student. It softened her beautiful features. “Exactly.” She turned back to Garcia, the smile only barely lingering. “If you need medical services, I can take you now.”

Garcia shook her head. “Honestly, I’m more hungry than anything.”

Kevin was immediately at her side, worry marring his face.

Lydia looked down at her watch and absently nodded to herself. “If you’d like to walk with me, we can head over to the school now. Dinner will be served in an hour.”

Aaron watched as several of his family exchanged glances. He met Gibbs’, Fornell’s, and Rossi’s eyes. They all slowly nodded. Again, the fact that the food was communal was a worry but if everyone in town was going to be there, then that lessened the chanced of them being poisoned. They would just have make sure they took precautions.

As they walked through the town to the high school, Aaron was again struck with the peacefulness of the town. No cars echoing through the air, only the clop of horse hooves on pavement, the quiet swish of bicycle wheels as people flew by. They were surrounded by townspeople. Some waving or giving them welcoming smiles, but all kept their distance perhaps to give them time to adjust. Aaron was glad of it. It had been too long in the wilds of America. 

He meet each of his team’s eyes. They all sent him the same message: no red flags. Gibbs’ team sent the same.

Too long being hyper vigilant. Too long worrying about Jack’s next meal. It had been too long since he could worry about normal things like the next unsub or missing Jack’s soccer game. And yes, worrying about catching the next unknown serial killer had be so very _normal_ compared to the last few years of dealing with zombies and cohorts of people who had been driven to the brink of sanity. It had been one thing to hunt a serial killer, two unsubs working in concert, or even a small murderous cult. It had been one thing to hunt down a cabal of paid, professional assassins. It was another thing to worry about their next meal, about gas to keep the buses going and heated, about if they would survive the damn winter without losing any of the children or Ducky, about losing another friend or family member to the damn infection.

Aaron wished he could relax now, he wished he still wasn’t waiting for the next shoe to drop, because everything did seem too good to be true. Other than the revelation that there was magic and werewolves – and God knew what else in the realm of the supernatural, vampires? Ghosts? – he still couldn’t afford to relax, couldn’t afford to stop analyzing everything he was seeing. The only place that had been safe had been Ellie Bishop’s family farm and it had been too long ago. Aaron didn’t even think he knew what being safe felt like anymore. 

He was certain Jack didn’t remember at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

People began filling up the high school cafeteria. Most of them dusty and dirty, but no one seemed to mind, most likely because they had been in similar situations. Lydia had explained that the really hard job functions like working the crops and animal husbandry were circulated amongst everyone so that no one set of people were “stuck” doing a job they didn’t want. 

In the cafeteria kitchen, he had seen for himself children being put to work: the older ones washing dishes while the younger carried folded cloth napkins to the various tables. They seemed happy to help, especially when they returned to get more and were treated to smiles and thanks and praise. The children themselves looked healthy, happy. Children always gave the best warning signals since they hadn’t learned to hide their emotions yet. These children still had their innocence.

“I feel good about this,” Lainey Simpson whispered from above her daughter’s head. Her eyes had been on the older children who were washing and drying dishes. None of them were handling anything more dangerous than forks. It was the young teenagers who handled the knives and bigger pots. “My parents had me doing the same when I was their age. The worse I ever got was dishpan hands.”

Many of their party nodded. 

Angelina Lopez bit back a sob. “We can finally be safe,” she whispered, clutching her daughter.

“From the zombies, yeah, but what about the freakin’ werewolves?” her husband exclaimed softly, disbelief and confusion in his voice, his face. “Seriously, werewolves?”

It was the first they could speak of it in relative privacy. Lydia had been with them until she deposited them here to wait for their meal. They had all been in shock in the house, focusing on the mundane changes in their circumstances while still processing the news of the supernatural.

“And magic!” Reid chimed in, hands fluttering in excitement. “Stiles had magic!”

“The words ‘holy shit’ come to mind,” Rossi commented dryly.

“Amen, brother,” Gibbs intoned. He, Rossi, Ducky, and Fornell may not have all known each other before the two law enforcement teams had banded together at Quantico to survive getting out of the city, but the four older men were now thick as thieves.

“I wonder if you have to be born with it or if it can be taught?” Abby asked, bouncing a little.

Gibbs closed his eyes and shook his head. “Please don’t become a witch, Abby.”

DiNozzo opened his mouth, probably to say something pithy but Gibbs squeezed his thigh, stopping the words in their tracks. The younger man pouted at his lover, making their daughter giggle.

“Are we safe from them?” Victor Lopez pressed, clearly worried. 

“Derek Hale seemed normal until Mike shot him,” Prentiss pointed out. “Even after being shot he didn’t lash out.”

“That guy, Scott,” JJ paused as one of the younger children came to their table to place napkins on it, offering them all a shy smile. The once media liaison offered one back to the little girl. Sarah shyly waved from her mother’s lap. The little African American girl waved back before scampering off. “He was calm and polite.”

“Stiles wasn’t,” Nick Torres countered.

“Would you have been if your spouse was shot and your kid crying?” Clayton Reeves shot back. The two men playfully glared at each other but Torres gave in with a graceful nod.

“I wonder what’s happening to the Hansons now? What happened when they went with the Argents?” Palmer mused.

“Here’s our chance to find out.” Morgan nodded behind Palmer.

They all turned to see Mike and Joe headed their way. Neither of them looked worse for wear, eyes roaming the cafeteria, but their pace was unhurried, no urgency nor alarm.

“What happened?” Beth practically pounced on them the moment they were in hearing range.

Aaron stared at her in surprise but was distracted when Joe answered.

“We got the low-down from the Argents.”

“Wait, start from the beginning,” Lopez demanded. “You knew about werewolves?”

Mike and Joe both nodded. 

“We were recruited by Phillip Anderson, a hunter out of Texas.” Jose started, body slumping into the seat. He didn’t look any worse for wear after being stuck unconscious by magic. “He helped us when the house our parents bought turned out to be haunted by a poltergeist.”

“Ghosts are real?” Jack piped up. Aaron immediately placed his arm around his son, but Jack seemed more interested than scared.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “It killed our dad, scared him to death because of his bad heart, actually, before Phillip was able to salt and burn its bones.”

Condolences were murmured but the brothers waved them away. 

“We started learnin’ and huntin’ with Phillip after that. Ghosts, mostly.” Joe shrugged his shoulder. “Until a zombie got him.”

“And werewolves?” Lopez pressed. “What did he tell you about them?”

“As long as they’re not hurting anyone, we’re not supposed to hurt them,” Mike dully recited, red staining his cheeks. “I really shouldn’t have shot that guy. I was just reacting, I guess. Only ever saw one other werewolf before.”

“Yeah, the one that Gerald Argent was hunting.” Joe shook his head, amazement on his face. “Man, the Argents, I can’t believe we got to meet more of them.”

“The Argents?” Fornell nudged the conversation into that direction.

“Hunting family, really famous.” Joe elaborated. “They’re known for taking out werewolves.”

“Argent means silver in French.” Prentiss shook her head ruefully. “That answers one question.”

“So your bullets were silver?” McGee asked.

The brothers surprisingly shook their heads. 

“Silver doesn’t actually do anything to werewolves,” Joe clarified. “It can affect other supernatural creatures, but not werewolves.”

“Phillip believe in being prepared for everything,” Mike answered with a sheepish, reminiscing smile. “Our bullets are made of cold iron but the powder is filled with salt, wolfsbane, and dead man’s blood.”

“Didn’t he used to dip the bullets in holy water too? Just in case?” Joe grinned at his brother, sharing a memory of their mentor. Mike laughed a little and nodded.

“So what happened with the Argents?” Reynolds asked. “When you went with them?”

“Yeah!” his nineteen year old son jumped in. “That hot chick! She doesn’t seem old enough to be a matriarch! Matriarch means she’s supposed to be old and a mom, right?”

Snickers and muffled laughter made its way around the table.

“Not in this case, kid.” Mike didn’t bother hiding his smile. “Hunters are ruled by the women, they’re the decision makers.”

“Seriously?” Pari perked up at that.

The Hansons nodded. 

“And what did she decide?” JJ asked. They had all heard her pronouncement at the tunnel but it was lacking in details.

“We’re on probation. As long as we follow the Code, we’re allowed to stay,” Mike answered, relief evident in his voice and body. Joe merely nodded. “They confiscated all of our supernatural ammunition but gave us our guns back and even gave us regular bullets in trade.”

“Seems fair,” Aaron spoke for the first time, eyes narrowed when he saw the signs of disgruntlement from the younger Hanson brother.

“Chris, that’s the matriarch’s father, said that we’ll only be called on to take care issues if the pack needs backup, otherwise, they police the supernaturals in the area pretty well.” Mike shared.

“What other supernatural creatures are there?” Reid was nearly laid flat on the table in his eagerness to get near the Hansons and their knowledge. “Vampires? Fairies? What other mythological creatures really exist?”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act One, Scene Five,” Reid automatically cited.

They all turned to stare at Stiles.

The young man was just as innocuous as before: t-shirt, jeans, windblown brown hair, eyes a light brown. Wiry strength that held his son on one hip. Nothing at first glance would hint at the supernatural power coiled within him. The power to lift a grown man and keep him immobilized fifteen feet in the air. The power to cut off the very air from his lungs. The power to call to heel a pack of werewolves.

“I don’t think we were formally introduced.” He grinned, focusing his attention on Reid. “Stiles Stilinski and my son, Caleb Hale.”

The little boy waved to everyone, smiling until he saw Mike Hanson. Then his smile turned into a scowl. “You hurt my daddy!”

Mike swallowed nervously, shrinking. “Uh, I, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know he was a good guy.”

“The best!” the little boy defended his father. “He saved me and my friends and Sister Mary and Mr. Silas!”

Stiles was grinning down at his son, whose fists were knotted in his t-shirt but whose whole body was leaning towards Mike Hanson and _lecturing_ him.

“You shouldn’t attack people unless they’re hurting you! That’s _mean_!”

Stiles’ grin got bigger and bigger with every word out of his son’s mouth.

Aaron had to admit that the little boy was adorable. Especially when he transformed: little fangs dropping that caused a little lisp, pointed little ears, even the strange nasal bridge only added to his cuteness.

“Grrrrrpa should arreth you!” Caleb turned to his father. The fingers that touched Stiles’ cheek were tipped in claws but they were careful not to scratch. “Rig’t, papa?”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Stiles reassured his son as he sent a knowing glance at the Hanson brothers. “I’m sure they understand their mistake and won’t be doing it again.” He caught one of his son’s hands and kissed the back of his little fingers. “Claws in, Caleb.”

“Oops!” Caleb stared at both of his hands, an adorable little frown of concentration on his brow. As the claws slowly retracted so did the rest of his werewolf features. He waved his hands at his father. “Ta da!”

Stiles laughed delightedly, head thrown back and eyes sparkling. “Uncle Scott taught you that, didn’t he?”

Caleb enthusiastically nodded and was rewarded with an equally enthusiastic kiss on his chubby cheek.

Stiles must have seen some kind of signal because he bent to put Caleb on his feet. He gently popped him on the butt. “Why don’t you grab the new kids and get in line for dinner?”

“Okay, papa!” Caleb trotted over to them and waved to Jack, Henry, Michael, Hank and all of the other children. “Are you guys hungry? I can show you how to get your food?”

Aaron looked down at his son before exchanging glances at the other parents. The other children who had been working in the cafeteria and kitchen were already lining up. He turned back to Jack, who at twelve years old was the undisputed leader of the younger kids, and nodded. His eyes reminding his son possible signs of danger. “Go on, Jack. I know you’re hungry.”

Jack knew what his father’s eyes were saying because he solemnly nodded. He reached for Hank and Sarah, the youngest of the kids. “C’mon, it’s dinnertime.”

Caleb smiled at them and led the way to the serving window. He showed them how to get their trays and where the steps were to the wide ledge that ran under the window. The ledge allowed the shorter children to walk along the serving line to collect their own food. It was quite ingenious and had to have been added after the apocalypse since this was a high school and wouldn’t have needed it. The werewolf child stepped up onto the ledge and moved his tray along the serving line getting scoops of food from the kitchen workers. He knew all of them because he greeted each by name. They greeted him in return with smiles and servings of food.

“You might want to go line up after the kids,” Stiles said, bringing their attention back to him. “The hordes are about to descend.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Holy crap, I never thought I would be happy to see salad!” Kevin exclaimed before stuffing his mouth full of said iceberg lettuce, shredded carrots, and cucumber rounds.

Aaron found himself agreeing with Kevin, but didn’t bother voicing it because he was too busy eating. Very much like everyone else at their table. Conversations around them rose and fell, but their table was absolutely silent except for the sound of them devouring their food. They had been on short rations, yes, but it was the fact that this was _fresh_ food that had them mesmerized. It had been nothing but canned food for too long. Even at the Bishop’s farm, fresh food had been scarce because it hadn’t been safe to be outside to harvest planted crops. Along with the salad, lentil stew that had been served, making the meal filling and nutritious. There was even a small chocolate chip cookie for each person.

Aaron smiled around his mouthful because his son, the one he had to outrageously bribe as a young child to eat his vegetables, was forking the salad into his mouth as fast as he could chew. 

Once his food was gone, Aaron watched the people around them, focusing on the werewolf pack. They were rambunctious, even after this afternoon’s trauma. Derek Hale seemed to be completely healed; not suffering any repercussions from his wound. He had his son on his lap letting the boy pick from his tray even though Caleb had already finished his own food. He even held up a forkful of salad up to Caleb’s mouth but the boy shook his head, surprisingly focused on the soup instead of the cookie. The cookie actually ended up on Stiles’ tray, snuck on there by Derek himself. He wasn’t very sneaky for a werewolf since Stiles visibly rolled his eyes at his mate but didn’t react otherwise. 

“Other than the werewolves at the gate, I can’t tell who’s a supernatural and who’s not,” Reid murmured into his ear. “Can you?”

Aaron shook his head, automatically moving to give the younger man a better view. “Mike and Joe did say that there are a lot of supernatural beings who looked completely human.”

“I’m pretty sure Lydia is supernatural.” Reid pulled back from studying the pack. Those tri-colored eyes of his were shining in excitement, the first Aaron had seen in a long time. The younger man had lost his mother early on; her caretaker had tried to protect her when the infection had spread to DC, but Diana had overpowered her and ran right into a herd of zombies. Spencer had been heartbroken, of course he had been, but he had confided in Aaron that he was also relieved and felt sometimes crushing guilt at his relief. Taking care of a schizophrenic mother during these harsh times would have been impossible and Aaron hadn’t blamed him at all for his relief. He could only support Spencer, console him, when the guilt became overwhelming.

“She came with us on her own,” Aaron gave his reasoning to support Spencer’s hypothesis.

The younger man nodded pushing his shoulder length hair irritability away. “I wonder if they have any barbers here,” he said absently. “But, yes. No one tried to come with her as backup.”

Aaron nodded, eying the petite redhead. “She must be powerful or they knew nothing we could do would hurt her.”

Reid made an agreeing noise. “She said there is only one born wolf, the others were made. I wonder how? And did you notice? The sheriff is a werewolf!”

“I’m going to try to meet him.” Aaron leaned around his son to see said man. The sheriff was seated next to his son but was talking around Stiles to Derek and Caleb. “Along with any of the leadership I can find.”

“I’d like to join those meetings,” Fornell interjected, forward.

“Same.” Gibbs was sharing his cookie with Tali but his attention was clearly on the werewolf pack. His fingers absently played with his stepdaughter’s dark hair.

Aaron glanced at Rossi and saw him nodded too. 

“No time like the present.” Rossi wiped his mouth and stood.

“He’s leaving,” Spencer noted urgently.

Aaron turned to see the sheriff share a hug and a kiss with his grandson then turned towards the used tray return. “Jack, stay with Aunt Jess and Spencer. Listen to what they say, okay?”

Spencer and Jess immediately moved closer to Jack, surrounding him, protecting him.

“Okay, dad. I love you.” 

Aaron paused for a split second, eyes closed. He turned back to his son and gave him a hug and a kiss, holding him tight. Jack never let him leave his sight without saying those words. Because he never got to say it to his mother one last time. “I love you too, Jack.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Gentlemen, John Stilinski,” the sheriff introduced himself, obviously waiting for them. After they had introduced themselves, he said, “If you’d like to meet the town council, you’re right on time. We’ve got a meeting right now.”

Aaron blinked at the man. He thought he would have to finagle a way to meet Beacon Hills’ leadership. 

“You could hear us?” Rossi asked incredulously. “From all the way over there?”

Stilinski grinned and nodded. “Sure wish I had this kind of hearing when I was a rookie. Would have saved me a ton of headaches.”

“So you weren’t always a werewolf?” Fornell followed Stilinski as the man led the way out of the cafeteria.

The sheriff shook his head. “I was bitten a few years ago to save me from the zombie infection.”

They stopped in their tracks.

“Wait, what?” Gibbs demanded, face incredulous, eyes squinting at Stilinski as if he could dissect him with his eyes. “There’s a cure?”

“Not in the traditional sense. Werewolves can’t get infected by the zombie virus.” Stilinski ruefully shook his head. “I was infected by the zombie virus, but my brilliant son figured that if the werewolves were immune, then getting the bite might save me from becoming the undead.” Pride infused the man’s voice and body for his son. He shrugged. “I had nothing to lose – I sure as shit wasn’t going to leave my kid an orphan and here I am.”

Aaron found himself nodding. Becoming a supernatural creature to stay with Jack? He would have done worse things. Studying the sheriff, it looked like being a werewolf wasn’t bad at all. The sheriff was older than he by at least ten years, but the man was fit, healthy. Not the muscular build of a body builder, but lean and built for speed. Clear eyes with no sign of aging or deteriorating that usually occurred in a man the sheriff’s age. He could also see the other three men, all fathers, accept the same mentality. But Stilinski was right, it wasn’t a cure. It was a possible preventative.

“Evening, Peter.”

Stilinski had led them, not to the town hall or some other official building. Instead, they were in the teacher’s lounge filled with people. 

“I’d like you to meet Peter Burke, our mayor.”

They shook hands with a middle age Caucasian man with brown hair and brown eyes. He was utterly normal, utterly unmemorable except for the sharp, sharp intelligence in those eyes. They were introduced to Judge Jessica Pearson, Dr. Gregory House, Chris Argent, Dr. Alan Deaton, and Dr. Amanda Martinez. 

“We’re always happy to have more law enforcement families join the community,” Amanda Martinez gushed after they stated that they were FBI and NCIS. They had found that they were less likely to be targeted if people knew they could protect themselves. “But do you have any scientists? Engineers? With you?”

“There’s plenty of science-types already, Amanda,” an older man groused as he came ambling in behind them. He peered up at Gibbs then Rossi. “Any of you know anything about farming or building? Never enough people with that kind of know-how.”

“I know my way around a hammer. Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” 

“Arnie McDonald,” the old man introduced himself in return, carefully studying Gibbs. He humphed. “A hammer, huh? We’ll see soon enough.”

Gibbs grinned down at Arnie, something misty and remembering in his eyes.

“Now that we’re all here, why don’t we have a seat?” Burke followed his own words by sitting first but turned to address them. “Gentlemen, you’re welcome to stay, but I’m afraid town business comes first.”

They all nodded, taking seats along the wall and out of the way.

“Okay, updates first.” Burke turned to the sheriff. “John?”

“The perimeter’s secured. The engineers and structural inspectors say that the wall and tunnel are holding with no issues.” Stilinski was ticking off his fingers. “No problems with the rotations of guards nor with the power plant groups. Danny and Lydia tell me the communication system between the plant and the police station are stable with no issues.”

“Excellent.” Burke turned to his left. “Greg?”

“No problems. We’re fully stocked. Thanks to having the power plant less people fell sick this past winter. We’re good for this coming one as long as the heating and electricity hold.”

The conversation among the diverse group was easy and direct. While the mayor was clearly in charge, he also behaved more like a sergeant-at-arms than the mayor. He kept order in the meeting, focusing people to the agenda. Not that the council really needed it as they worked well together. Not like a well-oiled machine that didn’t care about its surroundings, only doing the job it was designed to do. Rather they were people working together who knew that they had to depend on each other for survival.

The door of the teachers’ lounge remained opened. No one guarded it and plenty of people passed by. Some of them even stuck their heads in when something caught their interest, leaving when the topic bored them. The council merely nodded in greeting but otherwise ignored the new arrivals. 

The reports continued: crop rotations, crop yields, animal husbandry, population needs in terms of food and other supplies. They even talked about the upcoming graduating class of seniors.

“We’re planning the party,” Judge Pearson had contributed, smiling at Burke. “With Elizabeth and Neal’s help, of course.”

Burke grinned. “You know my wife and husband live for these things. Who’s entertaining this year?”

Aaron blinked. Wife _and_ husband? Beacon Hills was certainly welcoming of alternative lifestyles. It also surprised the hell out of him that they could talk of things like celebrations. Aaron couldn’t remember the last time they did anything more than sing happy birthday to a child. They certainly didn’t have the luxury of asking about entertainment at a party.

“All right, new business,” Peter announced thirty minutes later. To their surprised, he turned to them. “Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Gibbs, and Fornell, welcome to Beacon Hills.”

Aaron wasn’t surprised when the other three men turned to him, expectant looks on their faces. He was always the spokesperson for their groups. Being white, male, in his forties, and with his demeanor he was the perfect representative in nearly every instance as they had made their way across America. “Thank you, Mayor Burke.”

He waved dismissively. “Peter, please.”

“Aaron or Hotch,” he offered in return.

“Hotch, then. Other than this afternoon’s unpleasantness, did you have concerns?” He turned to Judge Pearson before Aaron could answer. “I assume they were given the regular introduction?”

She nodded. “Lydia welcomed them, however, we may need to create a ‘welcome to Beacon Hills, yes, the supernatural world does exist’ spiel.”

Peter gazed at them speculatively. “It really has been a long time since we’ve had newcomers.”

“The last group was Sister Mary Edward, Silas, and the kids.” Judge Pearson turned to them, expression worried and a little scared in an otherwise elegantly stoic face. “Have you seen anyone else? Are there other people out there?”

Rossi waved his hand back and forth. “We’ve seen other settlements of people, but not many travelers. For the most part, people have hunkered down.”

“Why didn’t you?” Arnie asked directly, bushy white eyebrows slanted down in suspicious curiosity.

“One of our people had a ranch,” Gibbs answered. “Too isolated to find supplies, but not isolated enough to be safe from zombies and assholes.”

Aaron winced at the reminder. They had lost a good third of their supplies thanks to a biker gang that had found the ranch. They had almost lost Torres and Morgan to the gang’s weapons. 

“Other places we stopped had _issues_.” Fornell’s hands formed tight fists, face filled with anger. He was probably remembering the place that offered to trade his daughter for a safe haven. The leader of that encampment had leered at Emily Fornell while crudely fondling himself.

Aaron shuddered. They had to fight their way away from that place using up a good chunk of their munitions but it was worth it. The man’s second had stared the same way at Jack. 

Beacon Hills town council members all nodded their heads.

“We’ve encountered some of those people,” Dr. Martinez sympathized.

“Crazy fucks all of them,” House pronounced.

Aaron caught himself biting back a laugh.

“Amen,” Rossi concurred on their behalf.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“So how can we help you, gentlemen?” the mayor asked, addressing them once more. “I assume there’s a reason you wanted to speak to the leadership rather than enjoying a shower and some rest?”

After sharing looks with the other agents, Aaron answered, “Honestly, sir, we wanted to evaluate you.”

Burke merely nodded clearly unconcerned, then grinned mischievously. “How did we do? Did we pass?”

“As long as this all wasn’t an elaborate ruse, yes.” There wasn’t any point in being coy. They were tired, they were running low on supplies and gas, Ducky was getting too old to be constantly on the go. Gibbs, Fornell, and Rossi were all starting to feel their age. Aaron wanted to give his son a sense of safety again. And this place was the closest they could find. 

No red flags about anything. No one in their group had seen a single thing that would raise alarms, no one had signaled that they should get the hell out of there. Every other place they had tried to stop gave off red flags within hours or even minutes. The fact that there were werewolves and who knows what other supernatural creature in Beacon Hills didn’t even ping on their radar. Not with the craziness and inhumanity they had already faced crossing the county. Not with how accepted the supernatural creatures were in the walled off community.

The people in the cafeteria had been far from carefree, but there was no tension among the varied peoples. No subpopulation had been hidden: children were present and showed no fear, the elderly had been contributing but also helped and cared for, women and men worked side-by-side, races of all kinds work and ate next to each other. The mayor had a husband and a wife!

If there was a single subpopulation being persecuted or even slightly suppressed they had not seen any evidence of it.

Aaron saw the acceptance and hope in the other men’s eyes. “We would like to stay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

For the first time in over two years, Aaron went to bed on an actual bed after showering in an actual shower and with a full belly. And it was _safe_. 

It was _glorious_.

True, he had to walk from the high school to their assigned house after his shower but the miniscule amount of dirt that attached itself to his body from the walk was absolutely nothing that couldn’t be taken care of in the working sink inside the house. From the lower bunk, Aaron smiled helplessly when he heard Jack sigh in bliss above him. 

“A bed, Dad,” his son sleepily enthused. “A real bed! With pillows!”

Aaron’s grin grew. “I know the feeling, kiddo. Sleep tight. I love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

Across the room, Spencer was grinning back at him from his own top bunk. The smile eventually dimmed a little, but the happiness in Spencer’s eyes stayed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this. . . .” he trailed off, as if searching the enormous dictionary in his mind for just the right word.

Aaron nodded, understanding. Completely. If this all turned out to good to be true, it would be devastating, but the feeling of safety and comfort after all this time was indescribable. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been excited to wake up in the morning,” he confessed quietly to Spencer as he turned on his side so that he could see the other man. 

“Me too.” Spencer clutched the blanket to his chest, eyes shining.

“Me three.” Rossi came in leading his grandson by the hand. 

“Me four!” Kai piped up making Aaron and Spencer grin.

“We decided to give Joy and Shawn some privacy,” Rossi explained, helping Kai up onto the last bed in the room. “So Kai and I are having a slumber party with you three.”

“Cool,” was Jack’s opinion before his soft snores filled the room.

Aaron fell asleep with a grin.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, after breakfast, they returned to the house with an older gentleman with flaming red hair and a young Hispanic woman.

“I’m Robert, with the archival team,” he had introduced himself then pointed to his colleague. “And this Antonia. She’s a nurse and will take your medical histories while I get a list of your skills so we can add you to the database and work rotations.”

“Danny and Jackson will be here in a little while to get any information you may have about resources or dangers you may have seen on your way to Beacon Hills.” Antonia glanced around eagerly. “Who wants to start?”

“I believe I will,” Ducky volunteered first, moving a little better now that he was sleeping on a real bed in a warm house but he still wobbled a bit. Antonia darted forward immediately, offering her arm with a smile. They moved towards the dining room where she had set up shop with an older laptop.

Gibbs waved Torres towards Robert. “You go first. Then get in line behind Ducky.”

Torres looked like he wanted to ask why him, but thought better of it when faced with Gibbs’ glare and followed Robert to the kitchen breakfast nook.

Halfway through their interviews, two young men arrived. 

“Good morning, I’m Danny Mahealani,” the young Polynesian man introduced himself, then pointed to the blond with him. It was the blond werewolf that had gone off with Derek yesterday. “This is Jackson Whittmore. Lydia tells us that someone here has information regarding resources and dangers around Beacon Hills?”

Spencer waved, still endearingly awkward even after all this time. “That’s me. Spencer Reid.”

Danny grinned at him and waved him forward as he set up his laptop, considerably more advanced than what Robert and Antonia had. “Let’s get started.”

Spencer began listing every resource that they had come across, starting from the Beacon Hills county line and moving further outwards.

Danny and Jackson stared at him in shock, Danny’s fingers having long stopped moving in his stupefaction. 

Aaron grinned, smoothing a hand over Spencer’s shoulder. “Reid has an eidetic memory, gentlemen. It might be faster for you to open a recording app and let him tell you everything he remembers.”

“Which is a whole hell of a lot,” Prentiss clarified, pride in her eyes.

Danny blinked, then nodded. A few clicks later, he cleared his throat and looked at Spencer. “Okay, Spencer go for it.”

After nearly two hours of talking, with Danny only barely interjecting to ask clarifying questions, Spencer had given every piece of information they had to Danny and Jackson. Aaron had brought in water from the faucet to soothe Spencer’s throat, but barely leaving otherwise.

“I think that’s it.” Danny looked over the notes he had taken on his laptop with satisfaction. “Thank you, Spencer, this will be seriously usef--”

The young man lit up the second George Bishop walked into the room, words trailing off and eyes arrested on George. Dark eyes started at George’s face and traveled down his muscular body and then right back up. The grin that lit the young man’s face was very, very, very interested.

Aaron hid his smile.

“Hello,” Danny smoothly stood and moved towards George, hand held out. “Danny Mahealani.”

George was blinking, confused, bemused, as he returned the handshake. “Uh, hi. I’m George.”

“Nice to meet you, George.” Danny purred his name. He did absolutely nothing to hide his interest.

George blushed bright red. His brothers were badly hiding their laughter. Ellie was doing a slightly better job hiding hers. By maybe a smidge.

Interestingly, George didn’t pull away when Danny held onto his hand just a tad too long. 

Jackson was glaring at his friend, his not-so-subtle throat clearing then fake, hacking cough successfully breaking the tableau. 

George startled away from Danny, but Danny was much, much smoother as he disengaged from George. The glare he sent Jackson’s way was practiced and was ignored in just a practiced manner by Jackson.

“Thanks. If we need more information we’ll definitely drop by again,” Jackson picked up the niceties when it seemed like Danny was still too distracted by George to continue.

“Oh, we’ll definitely be dropping by again,” Danny murmured, eyes still solidly stuck on George.

Jackson rolled his eyes and started packing up.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Spencer jumped up, blocking Jackson’s way to the door. “But I have questions!”

“About?” Jackson asked warily, eying Spencer.

Aaron slowly stood, hoping that the werewolf wasn’t about to take offensive at the questions he knew Spencer was about to ask.

“About your pack! About the magic!” Spencer was beyond excited, his words tumbling over themselves the way they hadn’t in a long time. “What’s the werewolf population like? How are you made? Is your physiology different? Is there a duality of the mind when you’re a werewolf?”

“Are there other supernatural creatures? Like vampires? Or ghosts? Or, oooooo, centaurs? Elves?” Jack jumped right in with his own questions.

Danny rolled his eyes at both Spencer and Jack, finally distracted from his fascination with George, but his grin was soft. “Look, Spencer, if you want to know more, you’re going to have to ask Stiles. He’s the one who has all of the information.”

“Is Stiles the leader of your pack?” Aaron asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

Jackson snorted.

Danny grinned at his friend, obviously sharing some kind of joke. “Technically, no, he’s not the alpha of our pack. Derek is. But if you want information, you have to ask Stiles.”

“Not Derek?” Spencer countered.

Danny ruefully shook his head. “If you could get Derek to talk, the FBI’s interrogation techniques must have gotten better since they last interrogated me.” 

“Wait, you were interrogated by the FBI?” Morgan demanded suspiciously.

The young man shrugged, completely unconcerned as he confessed, “When I was a kid I hacked into the FBI database for kicks. The agents didn’t get anything from me.” Danny grinned suddenly, mischievously. Eyes darting over to George once more. “Although I did give my phone number to one of the cute ones.”

Jackson wasn’t the only one to roll his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The days that followed were a mixture of easy routine and hard labor.

Even though they were newcomers and the work rotations assigned to them had been the easier ones, it had been long time since any of them had done manual labor. Washing dishes and clothes or carrying whatever resources they could find back to the buses was the extent of their labor on the road. Here, hoeing gardens, planting crops, harvesting them, and wrangling animals was all very different from what any of them had ever done. 

But the routine was a relief. Breakfast every morning, lunch every afternoon, dinner and showers every evening, and then a real bed at night. The most running they had to do was after chickens when they escaped. School every other day and on Saturday for the kids. Not having to worry about picking them up because they stayed at the school to do their homework and other after school activities or chores. The only zombies they saw were when they volunteered for guard duty at the wall and even then it was from the safety of 50 feet up and behind the parapets at the front gates.

It was so normal, it was nearly heaven.

Bit by bit, they became entrenched in the Beacon Hills community. One by one the other families began leaving the house they had all shared until only the NCIS and BAU and those under their wings remained. Maybe because they were still waiting for the other shoe to drop and weren’t willing to leave each other without back-up. 

They even continued to keep an eye on the other families as best they could. It was difficult because the other families were assigned housing wherever it was available to best fit their needs. The Lopezes were in a two bedroom apartment on the other side of the town. The Reynolds were in a three bedroom house the next street down. The Simpsons were in another three bedroom house halfway between the other two families. The Hansons had been with the Argents since the first day, but Aaron was less worried about them then the other families.

But with the other families gone, there was room to spread out. When everyone had been shown the house, people had just dumped their stuff and claimed rooms willy nilly, no one caring where they slept because they were together and safe. Now the house bustled with noise as people redistributed themselves.

The Morgans, Palmers, and LaMontagnes all had their own rooms. Although Rossi and Kai had given Joy and Shawn whatever privacy they could that first night, there was now a joint Rossi-Struthers room as well. Gibbs, DiNozzo, and their daughter shared their room with Ducky. Everyone else, including the Patel teenagers, stayed in the dining room.

“Spencer is almost done packing his things.” Aaron bent to help Beth move her things from what was going to be JJ and Will’s room. “I think you’re going to have to fight Jessica for the bottom bunk though.”

“Aaron.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Beth’s hesitation. She caught his hand, pulling him into an empty hallway. 

“Beth?”

“Aaron, I think.” She took a deep breath before tilting back to look him in the eye. Her eyes begged him to understand. “I think I’m going to sleep in the dining room, with the others.”

“The dining room?” 

“Please don’t read into it, Aaron.” She smiled reassuringly at him, kissing him sweetly as she always had. “It’s just been so long since we’ve had any space. Any of us.”

He could have offered to ask for an apartment of their own, he knew that, but Aaron was in no mood to be separated from his team, his family. So he smiled and nodded. And he let it go. 

He took her things for her to the dining room, leaving it on her chosen bunk. Aaron returned to his room to find Spencer packing up his things. “You don’t have to,” he said quietly.

Spencer stopped, turning around in confusion. “But I thought . . . .” he trailed off then glanced at Jessica. 

Aaron couldn’t see her expression from where he stood but whatever Spencer saw made him plaster a rather fake smile on his lips. 

“Oh, okay.” He busied himself unpacking.

Aaron sighed. The atmosphere in the room was now decidedly uncomfortable, but he found himself too tired to care. Even when Jessica gave him a sympathetic look over her shoulder, he couldn’t find it in himself to get upset. Thankfully, after unpacking their things, both Spencer and Jessica left him alone in the room. He knew Jack was with the other children, watched over by the Bishop brothers, so he let himself think and brood for the first time in a long time.

Ever since the zombie infection had spread, he and the others had been on the go. Unable to stop and think. Even at the Bishop ranch, there hadn’t been the luxury of time to think about things like feelings or relationships. He had focused on keeping them all safe, keeping them fed. While he had Gibbs, Fornell, Rossi, and Morgan to all lean on, while every man, woman, and child had pitched in without complaint, he had felt enormous pressure to keep them all safe and feed. Aaron knew that was how he was programmed, what he excelled at, but it didn’t leave him much room to second guess his decisions or room to reflect on his emotional relationships.

He had been in crisis mode for so long, Aaron wasn’t sure he knew how to just be Aaron.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

“The Hale pack is fascinating,” Spencer whispered so low that Aaron had to put his ear next to Spencer’s mouth to hear him. “On the surface, they’re like everyone else in Beacon Hills, when in reality they’re nothing like anyone else.”

Aaron nodded, indulging Spencer in his current obsession. Morgan and JJ and all of the others indulged Spencer as well, but between Spencer and Jack, Aaron found himself the most likely target of their speculations and questions. He was perfectly fine with listening to his friend and his son’s speculations because it was a refreshing change from their pensive silence or terrified hush from the past years.

“Derek Hale is probably the born werewolf.” Spencer was trying to be covert in his observation of the pack, ducking down behind the cow he was helping to feed. 

Aaron loathed to burst his bubble because the younger man was anything but covert. He hid his smile. “Your evidence, doctor?”

“Other than his transformation when we first arrived? His mannerisms. And not just because his are more canine than the rest of the pack. There’s a predatory aspect to his movement, like he’s used to hunting something.”

“You don’t think it’s because he’s the alpha?” Aaron countered as he carefully led another cow to its food.

“It’s possible,” Spencer mused. “But he’s comfortable in his own skin in a way the others aren’t. Comfortable with his own nature. That speaks to a lifetime of being a werewolf rather than being turned.”

“He could have been turned young, like Caleb?” Aaron played devil’s advocate just to amuse himself and to keep Spencer talking. If Spencer was talking and speculating, then he wasn’t worrying about the large farm animals with which he had no previous experience. Aaron nudged Spencer into getting the next cow. 

“Maybe.” Spencer absently petted the cow, much to Aaron’s amusement. This was the man who couldn’t even deal with puppies. “But I’d lay odds that he’s the born werewolf. I wish I could ask him my questions.”

Aaron grinned, not bothering to hide it. Every time Derek Hale had seen Spencer or Abby or even Jack coming, he disappeared with an amazing amount of speed and stealth. “Danny and Jackson did say that Stiles was the better avenue of information.”

“Yes, and I’ve been trying to get him alone as well, but to talk to a born werewolf!” Spencer’s hands flailed about so much the cow was having to snatch little bits and pieces when it could. It looked annoyed as hell. “That would be . . . that would be like being able to interview Jack the Ripper!”

Aaron bit his lip to stop his laughter but it faded quickly when he saw the way Derek Hale stiffened. “I think he heard you, Spencer.”

Spencer spun, mouth dropped opened and moving, but no sound coming through.

Hale had been joined by his mate, must have been relaying what Spencer said, because both of their body languages were very unhappy.

“I don’t think he liked being compared to a notorious serial killer.” Aaron moved to place himself between Spencer and the other two men even though they were yards and yards away. 

“Oh. Oh!” Spencer immediately poked his head around Aaron, hands waving, face contrite. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry! That’s not what I meant!”

“What exactly did you mean?”

Spencer shrieked a little. Aaron whirled around, one hand sweeping Spencer behind him, the other hand going to the gun that was no longer on his hip. He cursed himself for leaving it at the house.

Behind them was the blonde female werewolf. She was grinning; it wasn’t a nice smile but a baring of teeth and fang.

“He meant that interviewing Mr. Hale would be the equivalent of interviewing someone very famous. And in our previous line of work, there was no one more famous than Jack the Ripper.” Aaron answered her slowly, truthfully. 

“A better comparison would be Sir Isaac Newton or Galileo! Someone long lost to time but revolutionized our way of thinking about our world!” Spencer piped up, helping with his enthusiasm, but forgetting the danger because he realized he had another werewolf in front of him. Another possible source of information.

Aaron wrapped his hand around one of Spencer’s delicate wrists and kept him close by his side.

“Derek, you’ve revolutionized his way of thinking. I’m so proud of you!”

The laughing voice was behind them. Aaron carefully, slowly turned, keeping his back against the cows, and keeping both Stiles and the she-wolf in sight.

Hale, too, because he was there next to Stiles. Although, with his magic, Stiles was probably more dangerous than both werewolves combined. Aaron could feel Spencer vibrating with excitement and curiosity behind him, questions probably burning to be asked. 

From the amused glint in Stiles’ eyes, he could tell the other man was too.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Stiles has invited Abby and me to his house after dinner tomorrow night!” Spencer was nearly bouncing after his announcement to the rest of the house. “He’s going to let us ask him questions.”

“What? Yes! How?” Abby shot to her feet, actually bouncing in her excitement. 

“We had the same work shift as Derek today.” Spencer flushed, explaining his faux pas before waving away all of their teasing. “Stiles was interested when I told him we were FBI profilers so it’ll be an exchange of information.” He turned to Abby. “He was really interested when I told him you were a forensic scientist.”

Abby jittered in anticipation. “I can’t wait! I’ve my list ready and prioritized! And I’m totally down to answer any questions he might have!”

“I want to go too!” Jack immediately jumped up next to Spencer. The pleading eyes he turned towards Aaron made him inwardly groan.

“Me too!” Henry instantly demanded because where Jack went, so did Henry.

Soon every child was clamoring to be allowed to go with Spencer. Michael and Sarah were hanging off of Will and JJ, both begging to be allowed to go with their older brother as though it was a given that Henry would be going. Hank was alternatively running from Savannah to Derek, not letting his parents even voice their opinion before switching to the other. Tali, of course, turned her big brown eyes on both of her fathers pleading to be allowed to go with her Aunt Abby. Even Kai got in on the act, appealing not only to his parents but also to Rossi.

It was a cacophony of noise from the children and, while it was actually nice to see them so excited about anything, the noise was definitely too much.

“All right, stop!” Aaron was pleased to see every single child freeze and turn guilty, but of course still begging, eyes onto him. He looked at each set of parents and saw resignation and chagrin in each of them. “You can all go-”

The children cheered.

“ _If_ Sheriff Stilinski and Mr. Stilinski says it’s okay for you to be there.”

They cheered again, not in the least bit deterred.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Because he knew that Spencer and Abby wouldn’t be able to handle all seven kids by themselves, Aaron volunteered to go with them. So he found himself standing behind an entire gaggle of children as they patiently waited behind Spencer and Abby for someone to answer the door at the Stilinski home. They had been far from the only ones walking the streets of Beacon Hills that cool evening. While most of the city was dark to converse power, the residential areas were well lit for those taking strolls or off to their overnight shifts.

The door swung open but since Aaron couldn’t see who opened the door, it had to be Caleb who answered it.

“Hi, Spencer! Hi, Jack! Hi, everyone!” his little voice piped up.

“Hi, Caleb!” all of the kids chorused.

Aaron grinned and bit back a chuckle as Spencer bemusedly blinked over his shoulder at all of the kids.

“Hi, Caleb!” Abby bounced even more than the kids did in her eagerness. 

“Hi, Abby!”

Spencer turned back to the little boy, waggling his fingers awkwardly, still uncomfortable with children other than their group’s. “Uh, hi, Caleb. Are your parents home?”

“They’re out back,” Caleb cheerfully answered. “Come in, I’ll show you!”

Aaron followed Spencer, Abby, and the kids into the Stilinski house, closing the door behind him since it looked like Caleb is too busy leading everyone through the house to remember to close the door. But he must have heard the lock click, because Caleb bounced into view at the front of the herd of people, waving a hand.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Aaron said, in a normal tone which the boy clearly heard because he grinned before turning back to lead the way.

When they reached the back of the house, Stiles and Derek are both working in the vegetable and fruit gardens that took up the Stilinski backyard. The sheriff was rocking on the porch, watching his son and Derek.

“Hotch.” The sheriff stood, shaking his hand.

“John, thank you for having us.”

He waved the thanks away, offering him a seat. “Don’t be surprised if my son decides that turnabout is fair play and he grills you and your team about . . . anything that catches his interest.” 

Aaron blinked. “Anything?”

John laughed quietly. “My son’s mind goes in a million directions at light speed. If you mention something and it catches his interest, he’ll question you to death about it and any other tangents his mind can come up with.”

Aaron nodded at that, leaning back into the chair and watching as Caleb showed the other kids around the garden. “Fair enough.”

Spencer and Abby are already peppering Stiles, and by default, Derek with questions. The werewolf was actually inching behind his mate. Stiles, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Asking questions just as fast as he answered them. Aaron blinked in bemusement as the three of them engaged in such rapid fire talk that it was impossible to tell if any of them were actually taking in any useful information. Abby and Spencer easily followed Stiles as he moved through his garden, showing them the plants and explaining the supernatural uses of them. 

Aaron bit back a smile when Derek heaved a sigh of relief and escaped to the porch. The other man settled himself at his father-in-law’s (was that the right term when they were mates instead of husbands?) feet.

“They’re terrifying,” he stated, eyes still wide and staring at his mate, Spencer, and Abby. Hand gestures had joined in the conversation, for all three of them. Mouths going at lightning speeds, hands flailing and dancing about.

John threw his head back and laughed.

Aaron grinned. “Well, don’t look now, but a herd of children are coming this way.”

“Kids are fine,” Derek grunted, sour expression smoothing out into a sweet one as his son ran by laughing with the other children.

Aaron studied the other man. Derek wasn’t what Aaron had imagined a werewolf would be. He had seen the giant black furred creature this man could turn into. Had seen the long, sharp claws, the deadly fangs that could rip a man to shreds. But he had also seen a little boy perched on his back, howling with glee as they bounded away. Had seen the man carefully cut up his son’s food before giving the boy more from his own plate. Had seen the way Derek hid behind Stiles when Spencer and Abby had descended on them.

And now he was surrounded by children, clamoring for him to show them how he changed from regular human to werewolf.

“Kids, that’s rude,” Aaron admonished, bending a glare at each of them. 

“It’s all right,” Derek quietly countered, opening his arms for his son. 

As soon as Caleb was settled in his father’s lap and the other children had seated themselves around Derek and Caleb, Derek held up his hand, looking at the other children as he explained. “When I was little and just learning how to control my change, my mom and dad would hold me in their lap, and we would play this game.”

Caleb clapped his hands in excitement. “I like this game! Alpha says!”

“Yeah.” Derek smiled down at his son, nuzzling his chin into Caleb’s hair. “You’re supposed to do what I say, not do what I do. So if I say ‘right pointer finger’ but grow my pinky finger, you’re supposed to grow the claw of your right pointer finger, not the claw of the finger you see me grow.”

“Oh! Like Simon says?” Michael LaMontagne asked, eyes shining. Will and JJ’s youngest son was only a little older than Caleb, a sweet boy who was much more outgoing than his older brother, Henry. “I like that game! Can I play too?”

“But you don’t have claws to grow!” Tali pointed out, adorably confused. “How are you going to play?”

Michael’s face fell in disappointment.

Derek tilted his head and studied Michael and Tali. “You should hold out your fist, and when I call out the name of a finger, you should stick out that finger.” 

Michael held out his fist and stuck up one finger after another. He glanced up at Derek for approval.

“Yeah, just like that.” Derek gave Michael a small smile, which grew when he saw that all of the kids were holding out their hands, ready to play. He glanced down. “Caleb, you know what to do?”

His son nodded vigorously, holding one hand out. “Yes, daddy.”

“Okay, pointer finger.” 

One after another the children stuck out their pointer finger, but gasped when they looked up. Caleb already had the claw of his pointer finger extended but they were all riveted to the long single claw growing out of Derek’s pointer finger. They all stared in fascination, almost missing the next direction Derek threw out there.

Aaron couldn’t help leaning forward to watch as well. It looked simultaneously natural and unnatural to watch claws emerge from Derek and Caleb’s fingertips. Caleb’s claws were small, almost delicate-looking. Derek’s were nowhere near that benign: thick, sharp, dangerous. And whereas Caleb was concentrating every time his father called out a new direction, Derek was clearly focused on calling out those kids that made mistakes and were out of the game. It would seem that Spencer’s hypothesis that Derek was the born wolf was correct.

Soon it was only Jack and Tali who remained. Caleb had been taken out when he looked at Sarah who had stuck up the wrong finger. Everyone cheered when Tali DiNozzo emerged victorious. Derek left the kids to go inside, reemerging with cookies. He awarded Tali with her choice of two, while everyone else only got one. But none of the kids seemed to care as they sprawled in the grass and enjoyed their treats.

“Cookie?” 

Aaron took the cookie that John offered, biting into with relish. 

“Ooooh, me too.”

John rolled his eyes as his son came bounding towards them. Stiles grabbed a treat before sitting down beside his mate and son. He leaned into the hand John dropped into his hair. 

Aaron idly wondered if being a werewolf made the Hale-Stilinski family more touch-prone or if they had already been that way. 

Spencer and Abby both took cookies when John offered them.

“Learn everything you wanted to know yet?” Aaron asked, amused that Spencer and Abby had stopped long enough to eat the cookies rather than bombarding Stiles with more questions. 

“Not even close,” Abby declared between bites. “Stiles should just open Hogwarts because I need a degree in magic.”

John groaned. “Please don’t encourage him.”

Stiles snickered.

“I can’t decide which subject to ask for clarification on first.” Spencer peered at Stiles. “Do you have books on this? I can read faster than you can talk.”

Derek snorted so hard he choked on his cookie. John cackled so hard he was turning red. Stiles glared at his mate and his father. The kids blithely ate their treats and ignored the adults.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He wished he could say life became idyllic now that they found a safe place.

But Aaron couldn’t.

It had been a month and half since they came to Beacon Hills. A month of safety and wellbeing that had been absent for a long, long time. Morgan and Palmer had been talking about moving their families into their own places, had already approached the housing team about finding suitable places. DiNozzo, Will, and JJ were thinking about it as well. Aaron had to admit he was thinking about it too, but Beth stopped him.

Not because she didn’t want to move out of the house or away from the rest of the others. No, it was because he didn’t know if he should be asking for a house for Jack, himself, and Beth or only a space big enough for himself and Jack. He could feel the distance slowly growing between himself and Beth. She was pulling away, but he had no idea why. 

And she wouldn’t tell him.

Time and time again he had tried to talk to her about their relationship, but she always put him off or distracted him. Sometimes with sex. The mixed signals he was reading from her every action was dizzying. If she wanted out of their relationship, he hoped she knew she could just tell him that. He even told her so. Her response was to take him to bed. 

Even asking the others had been useless. Seasoned profilers couldn’t tell him why she was acting with such confusing behavior. Beth’s behavior left him confused and a little angry. On top of her behavior, everyone else was moving on, leaving him floundering.

Jessica had already told him she was ready to spend some time on her own. She had also told him that she had met a woman she was interested in. Aaron had been pleased, as had Jack, glad she was falling in love with someone. They had wished her luck in her new interest and helped her pack her things to move into her own place. She wasn’t the only one whose romantic life was bloom now that they were in Beacon Hills.

Garcia and Kevin had announced their pregnancy and plans to marry. Morgan and Savannah were going to start trying for their second child. George had finally admitted to his attraction to Danny Mahaelani and they were dating. Ellie Bishop and Reeves were dating as well. Abby was floating between John Bishop and a Beacon Hills resident. 

Even Jack had a girl he was crushing on.

Part of Aaron was glad he had the luxury to be worrying about romantic relationships, rather than just trying to stay alive. But the situation as frustrating. So much so he found himself venting to the _least_ likely person.

“You’d think that things would be more straightforward with a zombie apocalypse but people still have a way of making each other completely nuts.” Stiles Stilinski commiserated while he brushed down his horse for the day.

“I don’t have any idea why I’m telling you this.” Aaron stared at saddle he had just placed in storage. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

Stiles waved away his apologies. “I asked what was bothering you, you told me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

Aaron absently accepted Stiles’ words, but still had no idea why he was telling a virtual stranger who was twenty years younger his problems with Beth.

“But if you want my honest opinion?”

Aaron nodded, because why not?

“I think you need to do the best thing for you and Jack. If she wants to stay with you, she’ll tell you.”

“You’re telling me I should test her?”

“No.” Stiles turned to face him, eyes serious. “I’m telling you to do the best thing for your son. And _you_.”

The emphasis was clear. Stiles thought Aaron was too tied in in trying to do the right thing for someone else and not himself. That he should look to his own self-interest. And Jack’s. 

As if he was reading Aaron’s mind, Stiles added, “You should talk to Jack. See what he thinks.”

Aaron sighed, then nodded. Jack was old enough now to have an opinion, to have this kind of conversation. “You’re right.”

Stiles grinned. “I love hearing that.”

Aaron rolled his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When the knock sounded at the front door, Aaron put down the book he was reading. “I’ll get it.”

He opened the door to find Caleb smiling up at him.

“Hi, Agent Hotch!”

“Hello, Caleb.” He glanced out at the street but saw no one else. “Caleb, do your parents know where you are?”

The little boy nodded. “I’m here with Uncle Iyzee! Can Jack and Henry and the others come out to play? Some of my friends from school are going to meet us!”

Aaron looked again but saw no one else on the street. He opened his mouth to ask but stopped when he saw movement in the large oak tree in their front yard. A second later Isaac jumped down from its branches.

“Uncle Iyzee likes to climb.” Caleb turned to wave at his uncle, who returned it with a grin. “Soooo, can they? Please?”

Aaron could only shake his head in bemusement because obviously jumping from a branch twenty feet up and somersaulting down was no big thing to the little werewolf cub. “Yes, of course they can go play. Where are you going?”

“Just to the park, the big one down the street!” Caleb hopped a little. “May I go get them?”

“Sure, they--”

Caleb ran off like a shot, nose leading the way.

Minutes later their entire herd of children were running out of the house.

“Bye, Dad!”  
“Bye, Hotch!”  
“See you later, sir!”  
“Thanks, Agent Hotch!”  
“Bye, bye, Uncle Aaron!”

Aaron waved goodbye, grinning foolishly at their happy goodbyes. At their children acting like children.

He looked at the warmth at his side to see Beth. He cautiously wrapped his arm around her, sighing shallowly in relief when she let him, but frowned when he saw her pensive expression. “Beth?”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“They’re just going to the park. It’s less than a block from here.”

“No, that’s. That’s not what I meant,” she said haltingly.

He pulled away, carefully studying her. “What do you mean?”

She was quiet for a long time, then shook her head. She offered him a tremulous smile, patting his chest and pulling away from completely. “Nothing, Aaron. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

She walked away as he stared after her. Something about her words, her behavior, niggling at his mind. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aaron stared at himself in the mirror in absolute disbelief. He was wearing a suit. 

A _suit_.

For the first time in three years he was wearing what could have been considered his uniform for most of his adult life. His incredulity was ridiculously high. Granted, the suit wasn’t as perfectly tailored as the ones he was forced to abandon in DC all those years ago, but the fact that he was even wearing one was mind-blowing. 

But a suit was the only appropriate attire when one was invited to a wedding. Even if it was an outdoor wedding. Finding the appropriate clothing had been as easy as going to the clothing warehouse and “renting” out the suit and shoes. All of this new clothing would be laundered and returned after the wedding. 

“You look very handsome, Aaron.”

He grinned in the mirror at Jessica. “I can’t believe I’m wearing a suit again.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you in a suit again!”

“Me neither!” Jack practically skipped into the room. “These shoes squeak!”

His son wasn’t in a full suit, unlike Aaron. He had the pants, the shirt, even the tie. But instead of a suit top, Jack wore a vest. 

“Come here.” He held his hands out for his son, fingers deftly straightening his tie. “You look great, Jack!”

His son grinned up at him.

Technically, Spencer had been the one to receive the wedding invitation. In the months that they had been here, Spencer had become closer to the pack. His immense knowledge and idiosyncrasies set him apart outside of these walls, made him a target, but here they were embraced by the pack. He surpassed Lydia’s tested intelligence levels so the young woman was keen on learning from him. His enthusiasm in learning about the supernatural made him the perfect research partner for Stiles. He was, in a word, the pack’s friend. 

He had been delighted to receive the Boyd/Reyes wedding invitation, quickly asking to bring Jack and Henry when both boys piped up. Boyd – who had delivered the invitation – solemnly nodded, then included Aaron in the invitation as well. Aaron had been surprised, but pleased and accepted.

Finally dressed, Aaron watched indulgently as Henry and Jack bounced ahead as he and Spencer kept their leisurely pace towards the clearing in the preserve where the wedding was to take place.

“Stiles says it’s just going to be a regular wedding ceremony, except werewolves always get married at night, instead of during the day,” Spencer said, hand waving towards the moon that was just rising in the darkened sky. “The moon blesses the union.”

“Makes sense.” Aaron reached out to steady the younger man when Spencer nearly tripped over an exposed root. 

Spencer flashed him a smile in thanks, only to nearly trip again. 

“Here, hold onto me.” Aaron wrapped Spencer’s hand around his bicep, giving Spencer more stability on the fluctuating forest ground, aiming the flashlight he was holding so that they both could see. Spencer was a tall line of warmth all along his side as Spencer clung to his arm. Aaron realized he was disappointed when they reached the lantern-filled clearing and Spencer pulled away to greet the pack.

Turning to make his own greetings and congratulations, Aaron pushed that stray thought aside. 

The clearing had been lined with lanterns, giving the area a romantic glow. Chairs and rugs had been scattered about into conversational clusters rather than in formal lines. Red and orange flowers and ribbon decorated the large garden arch under which the couple would stand with their officiant. The flowers were a burst of warm colors against the cool dark green woods. A very respectable spread of food stood waiting on the far side of the glen. A lone SUV was parked at the edge of the clearing, obviously used to transport all of the wedding accoutrements. 

More and more wedding guests arrived until the clearing was filled with the happy chatter of the pack’s family and friends. The children chased each other, careful not to ruin their finery during their play. Everyone else mingled and laughed until the Caleb’s surprisingly sweet howl echoed through the night, signaling the start of the ceremony.

The ceremony, just as Spencer had indicated, was like any other Aaron had attended. It was simple and sweet, Erica glowed with happiness in the moonlight, Boyd standing straight and tall and proud as he made his vows to his new bride. Beside Erica, stood Stiles, as her best man. Derek was beside Boyd, Caleb in his arms, fiddling with the ring box he had been entrusted with. Between them stood Alan Deaton, the vet?

When Aaron glanced at questioningly at Spencer, he provided the answer.

“He’s a druid,” Spencer quietly informed Aaron as Deaton began the ceremony. “So he’s qualified to do the spiritual part of the ceremony, but Stiles told me he also applied with the city so that he could legally marry them as well.”

Aaron nodded, about to pull back when movement behind them caught his eye. 

Joe Hanson was stalking into the clearing, face contorted with anger and hatred.

“Gun!” Aaron yelled, lunging towards Hanson, but it was too late.

The gunshot obliterated the peaceful ceremony.

Aaron surged towards Hanson even as people screamed and werewolves roared.

Hanson darted into the woods. 

Aaron jumped for the man but missed, losing his footing. It didn’t matter. Members of the pack chased after Hanson, shots ringing through the night air but no pained howls followed. He turned back to see Stiles being lifted in his mate’s arms. Red blood stained his white shirt. Derek’s eyes glowed red, a snarl on his lips, long strides eating up the ground as he headed towards the single vehicle. 

Melissa McCall and Alan Deaton ran alongside him, keeping pressure on his wound. Sheriff Stilinski ran ahead of them, jerking open the back of Argent’s SUV, a sobbing Caleb in his arms. Argent had followed the pack, perhaps to keep them from killing Hanson, so his daughter was at the wheel.

Derek climbed in the back, barely waiting for Melissa and Alan. “Go!”

Allison gunned it.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a crowd waiting to find out about Stiles at the hospital. 

Aaron and the rest of the wedding guests had been there for a while before they were joined by the pack. The entire pack had come in less than thirty minutes after Stiles had been admitted into the hospital. Most had tears and foliage in their clothing, but no blood, no wounds. They had come in and settled in the waiting room. Some paced, others sat unnervingly still. 

Aaron curled around a slumbering Jack as they waited for news of Stiles’ prognosis. Spencer had fallen asleep, head against his shoulder, Henry also asleep in his lap. Aaron stayed awake through long practice of being on watch so he was the first to see the sheriff and Melissa emerge from the operating theatre.

He didn’t jump up like the rest of the pack and other visitors, seeing and hearing the sheriff perfectly fine from his seat. John was ragged but the light in his eyes told the story.

“He’s going to be fine.”

Cheering and happy sobs resounded.

Spencer, Jack, and Henry roused at the noise. Jack and Henry added their cheers when they realized Stiles would be all right. Spencer relaxed at the news in a way that sleep had not.

“Derek and Caleb are still with him but he’s being moved to his own room in about three hours.” Melissa raked everyone a glare. “You will all go home and rest for those three hours.”

“But, mom!”

“Do not ‘but, mom’ me, Scott McCall.” She wrinkled her nose at him, stern brown eyes above it. “I can smell you from here and I don’t need a werewolf’s nose to do it.” She bent that stern gaze on the rest of them. “Go home, all of you. You can come back in three hours and visit Stiles then.”

Aaron helped Spencer settle Henry in his arms, wrapping his arm around an almost sleepwalking Jack, and guided them all back towards the house. The adults from both teams were there, some awake, others dozing.

“Well?” Morgan asked quietly as Will stepped forward to take Henry from Spencer.

“He’ll be okay.” Aaron waited until Gibbs and DiNozzo stood up before guiding Jack down onto the sofa. He gave a tired smile to Abby in thanks for the blanket she handed him, draping it over his son. “They’re allowing visitors in about three hours.”

“Good to hear.” Rossi patted him on the shoulder, yawning. “I’m off to bed.”

Everyone else began moving towards their own beds. Everyone except Beth.

“What’s going to happen to Joe?” she asked, her eyes wide and worried.

Aaron shook his head. “Argent and one of the deputies took him into custody. There’s going to be a trial.”

She nodded, worrying at the hem of her shirt. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your bed.” Aaron escorted Beth into the dining room, but instead of seeing her to her bed, he left her at the entryway with a soft ‘good night.’ 

~*~*~*~*~*~

For the first time since he met her, Jessica Pearson looked like the judge she was. The statuesque woman presided over the silent courtroom in her black robes, dark eyes watching as the jury filed in.

As soon as they were settled, she addressed them. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, your honor.” The forewoman stood and handed the bailiff a slip of paper.

The jury had debated for less than an hour, but Aaron wasn’t worried about prejudice against newcomers. He had been there, had seen Joe Hanson attack Stiles Stilinski with no provocation. He had walked into the Boyd-Reyes wedding and shot the man with no warning. When asked by the sheriff why he had attacked Stiles, Joe had sneered and said, “None of the monsters deserve to live.”

He had spit in the sheriff’s face.

The sheriff had merely wiped off the spittle and growled at his deputies to put Hanson in a cell.

It wasn’t a surprise when the jury found him guilty. It wasn’t a surprise when Judge Pearson exiled him. It didn’t surprise him when Joe Hanson screamed and fought the deputies as they dragged him out of the courtroom.

Beth was the one that surprised him.

She was in tears as she packed her things.

“Beth?” Aaron didn’t understand why she was packing. Didn’t understand why she was preparing to leave this safe place. Didn’t understand why she crying about Joe Hanson. “Beth, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t stay. I’m so sorry!”

He knew exactly why he asked the next question; once burned, twice shy. “Were you cheating on me with him?”

Beth’s shocked expression answered his question and he believed it.

“Then why are you leaving?”

“Aaron, don’t you see? I can’t . . . they’re not . . .”

Realization flashed through his mind. “The werewolves, the magic. You’re afraid of it.”

“It’s not natural, Aaron!” She flung her hands in the air, agitation infused in her body, her face. “They’re monsters. They belong outside the walls with the zombies! Not in here with us!” Her face lit up when he frowned, misinterpreting his expression. “Come with me! We can get away from them! You, me, and Jack! We can be a family!”

Aaron didn’t bother reasoning with her. He pulled away from her grabbing hands. “I don’t think of them the way you do, Beth. And I won’t take Jack away from a safe and stable environment.”

“Don’t you see? It’s not safe here! Not with those monsters!”

Aaron walked away from her. He didn’t even know where he ended up, only that it was outside. He inhaled tiredly, barely noticing the sweet air and the soft sounds of nature. He lost his wife to his job. Long before Haley had been murdered by a serial killer he had been tracking, his dedication to his job had cost him his marriage. He had felt guilt at the dissolution of his marriage. With Beth, it was different. 

She was choosing to leave him, but Aaron didn’t feel guilt. He didn’t feel relief. He felt confusion.

Beth had never before displayed the inability to adjust to a change in her reality. The zombies had frightened her but she had learned to shoot to protect herself and others even though she hated guns. She had been adventurous, willing to try a long distance relationship with him while she sought out new career opportunities for herself. Nothing about her previous behavior had indicated her inability to accept change.

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard after letting go. But then again, the existence of the supernatural wasn’t the same thing as moving to a new city. It wasn’t the same thing as science-based experimentation that ruined the world. This, magic and the supernatural, was Beth’s breaking point. But it still made no sense. Why leave this safe place when she could have easily avoided the pack if she was that unsettled by them?

“Are you okay, Dad?” His son’s soft question startled him out of his thoughts. Jack’s expression was filled with worry, knowledge too old for his young face.

Aaron pulled him into a hug, grateful Jack hadn’t yet hit the age where he was too cool for hugs even here where kids could afford the luxury of considering things cool. His son’s thin arms around his waist, his head pressed into his chest, allowed Aaron to settle. “Yeah, Jack, I’m okay.”

“Beth’s packing.”

“Yeah. She’s--” He didn’t want to insult Beth’s decision, but couldn’t quite figure out how to explain it to Jack. He didn’t have to.

“She doesn’t like the pack,” Jack stated matter-of-factly. “She’s afraid of them. Even Caleb!” Derision filled his voice as if he couldn’t imagine anyone being scared of little Caleb, even if he did come with a set of fangs and claws. Jack tilted his head back to look up at Aaron and rolled his eyes with all the scorn a pre-teen could muster. “Caleb! He’s just a little kid! Like a puppy!”

Aaron huffed a laugh but sobered. “I don’t really understand it either, but she’s made her choice.”

“A stupid choice.” Jack ducked, knowing Aaron wouldn’t like his judgement on Beth’s decision. 

But since Aaron agreed with his son, he didn’t reprimand him. “How do you feel about her leaving?”

Would Jack be upset at losing another mother figure? But Jack merely shrugged. There was nothing in his eyes, face, or body that said he was upset at Beth leaving. In fact, his son seemed more worried about his father’s reaction to Beth leaving. His next words confirmed Aaron’s instincts.

“How do you feel about her leaving,” he countered, tilting his head back again to study Aaron.

Aaron sighed. “I won’t be going with her,” he hastened to assure his son. “We won’t be going with her.”

Jack rolled his eyes again. “Please, dad, I knew that. You want me safe and its safe here.”

There was no more perfect summary than that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The party to see Joe and Beth off was small: Mike, Aaron, and Spencer. And Spencer only came because he was curious about the process of exile from Beacon Hills. Aaron was glad for his quietly supportive presence. Jack had merely waved when Beth said her goodbyes to him at the house before turning back to Jessica, an arm slung around her waist. He had shown more emotion at saying goodbye to Spencer and Aaron, even though they were only going to see Beth off. And that, right there, had told Aaron who was important in Jack’s world. It made Beth’s leaving even easier to stomach.

There was no ceremony, no tearful goodbyes. 

Both Joe and Beth kept wary eyes on Scott, Lydia, and the sheriff. The pack members merely watched as the deputies gave them supplies and the keys to one of the buses they had come in – the small mercy Beacon Hills allowed its exiles.

Joe and Mike didn’t hug, didn’t even say goodbye to each other. Joe glared at his older brother for upholding the Hunter’s Code and siding with the “monsters.” Mike angry and sad at his brother for the direct opposite.

Aaron didn’t hug Beth. He simply said, “Stay safe and good luck.”

Her eyes were dry but her lips wobbled then firmed when she glanced at the pack members present. She nodded and turned on her heel towards the bus.

The bus drove out of the tunnel, the gates closed behind it. Zombies that had made it in were quickly dispatched. And that was that.

“You’re not worried that he’ll be back with other hunters?” Spencer stared worriedly after the bus as it drove away with Joe Hanson and Beth inside.

Scott shook his head. “As they get further away, they’ll forget about Beacon Hills.”

“What?” Mike Hanson whirled around but he wasn’t the only one staring at Scott.

He offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, your brother won’t forget about you. He’s just going to forget about Beacon Hills. He’ll remember that you’re in a safe place and happy, but he won’t remember where we are. He won’t remember why he attacked Stiles, he won’t remember the pack. He’ll just remember that he attacked someone and had to get away before he was punished.”

“How?” Spencer asked incredulously, but answered his own question. “Stiles.”

Scott and Lydia nodded.

“With a little help from our other practitioners,” Lydia added. She turned serious eyes on Aaron. “Beth won’t remember Beacon Hills either.”

Aaron could only nod. She had made her choice.


	2. Chapter 2

_Six months later_

Aaron laughed to himself as Jack ran by, a horde of children in his wake, all screaming and laughing. 

There were no balloons, no streamers, no party hats. There weren’t even any presents, but that didn’t seem to matter at all to Jack. There was a small cake, his friends, his family, so his son was having the time of his life running around and having fun on his thirteenth birthday. Free, easy, as childhood should be.

The last few birthdays had been nothing like this, mostly another day that passed with maybe a quiet “happy birthday” from friends and family because it hadn’t been safe to do more. Now, in Beacon Hills, Jack was joyfully leading the other kids in games in the local playground. Around them were their families, relaxing on this Sunday afternoon after the morning chores had been done. He twisted to avoid another slew of kids running back, lifting the lemonade high above his head to avoid spilling until he reached his destination. 

“Lemonades as requested,” Aaron presented the drinks to Spencer, the alpha werewolf, and his mate. He enjoyed this ability to play host at this party for his son. To ferry drinks to guests and make small talk or catch up with family and friends. It was just nice to be able to do this.

“Thank you, Hotch.” Spencer smiled sweetly at him, sipping at his drink. He had tirelessly kept Jack and the other kids busy as Aaron and the other adults had set out the food. This was the first time Aaron had seen him sit down.

Aaron’s smile grew as Spencer shifted minutely closer to share his plate.

“Thanks!” Stiles took a sip before twisting to put it down, hissing when the movement caused pain from his gunshot wound. 

Derek was immediately there, hand under his mate’s shirt, black lines crawling up his arm as he took Stiles’ pain. 

Stiles slumped into his husband’s hold. “Thanks.”

“You should be more careful,” Derek rumbled lowly, obviously pleased that he was helping his mate but simultaneously worried. 

Stiles merely hummed and patted Derek’s thigh. 

Aaron ducked his head to hide his grin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spencer do the same.

This was a scene he had seen multiple times since Stiles was shot by Joe Hanson. Stiles had recovered quickly, mostly thanks to the magic that coursed through Beacon Hills, but even though the wound healed quickly, it was not as if the wound had never happened. Stiles had been out of the hospital, up and about in record time, however, while the ripped muscles and shattered bones had healed, the younger man was still susceptible to the aches and pains associated with healed wounds. He rubbed his own shrapnel wounds in remembrance and commiseration.

“Hotch, can you take Bea? Pen needs me to help with the food.” Kevin was holding out his three month old daughter to him.

“Yes, of course.” He absently waved away the other man, focusing on the beautiful blonde hair, dark-eyed cherub in his arms. “Hello there, Bea.”

Bea Garcia-Lynch was named after her maternal grandmother, Barbara, but was her mother’s daughter. Sunny and smiling, sweet and adorable, the little girl was the first baby the BAU had since JJ and Will’s daughter five years ago, before the zombie apocalypse had occurred. It just hadn’t been safe until now. But it seemed like the announcement of Garcia’s pregnancy months ago started a slew of relationship changes, signaling the safety now present in their lives.

Aaron could see evidence of that everywhere. 

Ellie Bishop and Clayton Reeves was sitting with Father Hernandez, discussing their upcoming nuptials. Morgan was helping Savannah sit down on a bench because she was ready to pop with their second child. He could hear Delilah berating her husband.

“Tim, I’m pregnant, not dying.”

“You were fanning yourself, heat stroke is a thing.” He was stubbornly pushing her chair into the shade. 

Delilah slumped, obviously choosing her battles with her husband. 

Once McGee settled her, he predictably turned to his other source of worry. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave Sarah alone with him?”

Delilah grabbed his hand to keep him by her side. “Tim, she’s finally showing interest in a man since she was attacked. She’s in plain sight and Derek and his pack are here. She’s fine, leave her alone.”

Despite her words, Aaron found himself searching out Sarah McGee. She was under a tree on the far side of the park, the young man with her had been introduced as Brian Greenberg. He was Stiles’ classmate, known by the rest of the pack. He was clumsy and socially awkward and seemed to be the favorite scapegoat for Bobby Finstock, but for all of that, he was respectful and sweet to Sarah. She seemed cautiously hopeful, but so very skittish.

“Fornell, leave them alone.”

“Gibbs, she’s --”

“Twenty years old, not twelve. She likes the boy, leave them alone.” Gibbs’ voice was pure, unadulterated exasperation as the two men walked passed. Gibbs had one hand firmly wrapped around his best friend’s arm, dragging the other man away. He forced Fornell into the bench on the other side of Derek and Stiles’ picnic table. 

Fornell glared at Derek. “This is your fault.”

Derek, for his part, took a sip from his lemonade and utterly ignored the older man. It was obvious he neither cared nor believed he was culpable for anything.

Gibbs heaved a tremendous sigh then held out his hands. “Give me Bea, otherwise, I’m going to punch him.”

Aaron reflexively clutch her closer while he chuckled but gamely handed her over.

It was amazing. The second she hit his hands, Gibbs diamond-hard eyes softened into blue velvet. The man was an absolute sucker for children. 

Unfortunately, unlike every other time Gibbs was able to get his hands on Bea, Fornell didn’t immediately fight for his turn with the baby. Instead he was still grumbling about Emily and her new boyfriend.

“Is it because she’s dating in general or is it because he’s a werewolf?” Stiles asked the question as if he didn’t have a care in either case, but there was tension in the air.

Spencer eyed Fornell as well, but relaxed when he read the older man’s body language, clearly seeing what Aaron had seen as well.

Fornell made a disparaging noise and practically yelled, “Werewolf, smarewolf. Who cares? He’s a boy! _I know_ what boys are like!”

Every single person in the vicinity muffled their laughter. Except Stiles who had no filters and openly laughed at Fornell.

“Isaac is a good kid,” Gibbs said, and from his long-suffering tone, not for the first time. “Emily’s got a good head on her shoulders. Leave them alone, Tobias.”

“I can’t wait until Talie starts dating,” he spit out viciously. “I’m going to throw those words in your face.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes. Hard. 

“Look on the bright side, Fornell,” Stiles exclaimed cheerfully with a shit-eating grin on his face. Derek recognized it, facepalmed and groaned. “At least she’s only dating _one_ guy.”

It was Gibbs’ turn to scowl and Fornell’s turn to laugh at him.

Aaron discreetly cleared his throat, turning his head to see Abby seated in between John Bishop and Craig Bentley, Beacon Hills’ resident tattoo artist. She had meet him when she was discussing getting a tattoo to commemorate her family members. Abby had lost her brothers, both adopted and biological, to the zombie infection. She had been devastated, like many of them, but at least she knew what happened to her brothers. Aaron had no idea if Sean was alive, a zombie, or simply dead from drugs or violence.

They had all lost at least one person because of the Umbrella Corporation’s fuck-up.

Thank God they had found Beacon Hills before they lost even more.

Aaron shook the dark thoughts from his mind as the tables turned and Fornell began speculating on Abby’s relationship with the two men as revenge against Gibbs. For the longest time, Abby had flitted between the two men, trying to decide, but then, one day, she had announced that she was dating them both. Abby had stuck out her chin and dared anyone to make any comment. Gibbs had stared hard at both men, but said nothing. Of course, the man could say volumes without uttering a single word.

Derek, out of the blue, growled, low, frustrated.

“Derek?” Stiles turned, more gently this time, as his mate stood up.

“Jackson’s messing with George again.” The alpha pressed a kiss to his mate’s mouth then stalked off, presumably to straighten out his beta.

Stiles relaxed and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Jackass needs to either leave George and Danny alone or just admit he’s a special snowflake who wants two mates instead of one.”

Aaron blinked. “Is that allowed?”

Stiles blinked back at him. “Uh, sure? As long as everyone is a consenting adult? Which?” He flailed his hands to indicate . . . something? The fact that they were all adults, maybe?

But, with all that flailing, he ended up dumping half of his lemonade on himself.

Aaron ducked his head to cover his laughter as Spencer began pelting questions about non-traditional relationships at Stiles even as his hands helped wipe up the mess.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

“Today we celebrate the Day of Loss. We mourn our lost civilization. We pray for our lost loved ones.” The female non-denominational minister called the service to order. Her voice soothing but strong as it rang out in the night air.

This was the first Day of Loss they had attended since coming to Beacon Hills. The townspeople marked the day the virus had escaped Raccoon City and began spreading across the US by coming together to grieve. 

Aaron welcomed this day. 

“We give thanks for our safety while we remember those outside our walls. We hold those we still have close to our breasts and pray for those we have lost through death and the virus.” The Jewish rabbi intoned as he stood amongst the other clergy from the major faiths. All of the religions came together this day, all of Beacon Hills came together this day, to remember.

Life had been so tumultuous that his and Jack’s nightly ritual to say good night to Haley had been one of the first comforts to go. This would give both he and his son time to grieve for her together. But not just her, for everyone they had lost this last few, but long, years.

“We pray for the ones who may have still survived. We pray for their safety and their safe return to our side.” The Muslin imam stepped forward to light the first candle in the short line of them. The light from those candles would light the smaller ones held by the audience. 

The townspeople had gathered in the high school’s lacrosse field, where all town-wide events were held. In front of the home goal post, the stage had been set. Clergy from a few of the major religions were up on the stage, each with their own part to play in tonight’s gathering. 

“We pray for those we hold dear and those whom we have never met. May their faith keep their spirits uplifted.” The Hindu pujuari moved forward to light his candle.

Over the years they had lost so many, while most were lost right at the beginning, others they had lost on the road. They hadn’t had time to do more than dig a grave and place a marker before they had to move onto the next possible safe place, onto the next possible resource to ensure their survival. Grieving had happened quietly and in the solitary of their own hearts and minds.

This would be the first time he and his family would be able to remember together.

“For those we have lost, we pray for their souls. May the almighty of their faith hold them close and give them comfort.” The Catholic priest was next to light a candle before returning to his place amongst the other clergy.

Some, like Leon Vance, had sacrificed himself for their safety. After the loss of his children to the virus, the man had never been the same. Others, like Morgan’s mother and sisters and Aaron’s own brother had been lost to the unknown. They had gone to New York and to Chicago, but they never found their missing families. Others like DiNozzo’s father and McGee’s mother had been lost to sickness on the journey to safety.

Here, today, they could remember all they lost. To share their memories with others.

“May the knowledge that you will reunite with them in the eternal life bring you peace.” The Protestant minister was the last to light a candle, her soprano voice flowed over the audience.

As the Buddhist monks began their chant, an altar server began the lighting of the candles. The tallest server touched the wick of her smaller candle to the last of the pillar candles. One by one the smaller candles were lit. Those with lit candles turned to those with unlit candles to spread the light, to share a sad smile. People murmured the names of those close to their hearts. The chanting of the monks underlined the names, otherwise the area was silent.

When the light came to Jack, his son murmured, “Love you, Mom.”

He could hear the tears in Jack’s voice. Aaron wiped away the wetness on his own cheek with a shoulder, unwilling to let go of Jack. Wrapped an arm around Spencer when he murmured his mother’s name. Spencer curled into his side, long arm wrapping around Aaron’s waist, head coming to rest on his shoulder. Watched with pride as Jack reached out and held onto Spencer’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Felt the presences of their family embracing and bracing.

Only because they were warned did none of them startle at the howls that arose from the pack. Completely unlike anything they had heard before from the werewolves, this sound was everything mournful: a wail of sadness, an edge of anger, a promise to never forget, a threat to those who had taken what was theirs. A vow to always love. 

A call to hold onto hope.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles and Derek’s anniversary party was wild.

In every sense of the word.

The clearing the pack used was filled with torches and firelight. Blankets and pillows were strewn everywhere. Clothing too, for that matter. Half naked children ran amok, in and out of the clearing, hiding in the trees like the wild things. Howls, both wolf and human, echoed without rhyme or reason through the air. Half of the pack was shifted, chasing the children, each other, popping out of the dark to startle and tease the adults. The other half of the pack had ran off in pairs.

Aaron didn’t need to ask what those pairs were doing off in the dark.

It was the fourth anniversary of Derek and Stiles’ mating ceremony, which had occurred the first full moon after Stiles’ nineteenth birthday. It was the first time Aaron and the others had been invited to a full moon. The kids had been more than a little excited. But the same could be said about Spencer and Abby. 

With so many joining them, Derek had taken members of his pack and hunted an entire deer outside of the walls. The enormous buck had been treated so that every part of the animal would be used, not just in the full moon meal, but in every way shape and form. Bones and hooves were used in the creation of soup stock, antlers were given to the town’s dogs, and the meat had been processed into steaks, sausages, and burger patties. Or were given to the town’s pigs. The hide was being processed by a couple of old-time leatherworkers but Derek wasn’t telling anyone what he had planned for it.

Probably a gift for his mate or his son.

The two of whom were chasing each other amongst the chaos that apparently reigned when a pack partied during the full moon.

“Daddy!” Caleb shrieked in delight as Derek scooped him up, tossing him into the air.

“Caleb, crap!”

Aaron watched as Derek automatically braced himself when Stiles couldn’t stop his forward momentum and slammed into his mate. It didn’t help. The three of them went down in a laughing heap. 

“Kids,” John sighed fondly beside him. 

Every man there grunted or toasted John with their drink. He, Gibbs, Fornell, and Rossi had joined Aaron in the shade of a large tree, away from the shenanigans of the others. They each had a glass of the moonshine Gibbs and Rossi had started brewing up. John had added a pinch of something to his with wink. They all knew better than to ask.

“Jethro! Tell your daughter she can’t just bite someone.” DiNozzo marched up to them with Talie perched on his hip, glaring at her father for all she was worth. Her father swore up and down that Talie had learned that glare from her stepfather. The stepfather in question had hid a quiet grin.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her. “Who did you bite and why?”

“Henry because he has cooties,” the little girl answered defiantly.

Gibbs grinned, tickling her chin. “That’s my girl.”

“Gibbs!” DiNozzo yelled at his lover while the rest of the men laughed into their drinks. Tony rolled his eyes and stomped away, presumably to lecture Talie on why she shouldn’t bite people.

“Someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight,” Rossi teased the other man.

Gibbs shrugged. “I’ll sweet talk him out of his temper.”

“First off, is that what they’re calling it now?” Fornell smirked. “Secondly, sweet talking involves talking, Jethro.”

Again the other men laughed into their drinks.

“At least I’ve still got someone to sweet talk,” Gibbs shot back. “You ran away from the last woman because she said she didn’t like bananas.”

“It was a euphemism!” Fornell snapped.

Aaron choked on his drink, sputtering and laughing, dodging the haphazard backslaps Rossi was oh-so-helpfully doling out. 

John wasn’t much better.

“And what you yahoos laughing at?!?!” Fornell jabbed his finger at them. “You’re schtupping a woman half your age!”

“Emily knows what she wants,” Rossi answered smugly. “Who am I to deny her?” Then the evil bastard betrayed him. “You should be talking to Aaron.”

“Me?” Aaron glared at his old friend. “What do I--”

“You’re pining like a twelve year old boy, don’t deny it!” Fornell savagely cut in, readjusting his aim for his new target, chin jutting in the direction where Spencer, Morgan, and the rest of their team were hanging out by the fire pit. “You should have made a play for him ages ago! Instead, you stare and sigh and doodle little hearts with your initials entwined with his!”

Aaron choose to ignore the man with dignity, ignore the muffled laughter of John and Rossi, ignore the laughing eyes of Gibbs. But knew that his expression had gone soft when he saw Spencer reach out and rope Jack to his side, offering his plate. Jack, like many of the children, had been too excited to sit still to eat. His son grabbed food and shoved it in his mouth, ready to take off again. But Spencer looped his arm around Jack’s waist, keeping the boy still long enough to actually chew and swallow his dinner. Jack slumped against Spencer’s side when he realized he wasn’t getting away, looping his own arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

John cleared his throat quietly, partially drawing his attention back to the other men. His words were just as quiet. “You better make your move, Aaron. You don’t want to lose him to the competition.”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Spencer’s got himself a few admirers,” Rossi clarified. “From the college courses he’s teaching.”

He hadn’t heard anything about this. Spencer told him all about his day, told him about everything, every little thing that crossed his mind. The younger man hadn’t mentioned anything about admirers. “Reid didn’t say--”

“He barely recognizes when someone at a bar is hitting on him,” Rossi scoffed. 

John scuffed the back of his own head, a mannerism his son had clearly inherited. “Stiles mentioned there were several young people looking to hook up with the ‘hot professor.’”

The man stopped short of making air quotation marks, but he was obviously repeating something Stiles had said. Stiles and several of the pack were attending college courses that Spencer was teaching. Spencer was utterly in love with the position as he was able to work with small, intelligent groups of students who wanted to learn, rather than having to learn because of societal pressure. But never once had he mentioned spending more time with anyone outside of class or even wanting to. 

Fornell was stabbing a finger at the air in front of Aaron’s face. “See! What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

Despite the worry that he might lose Spencer to someone else, Aaron heaved a sigh and confessed, “I wanted to give him a chance to . . . explore his options.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” Rossi demanded, all levity dropping from his face and body. “Aaron--”

“Dave,” Aaron cut off his friend. “Dave, we’ve been on the run and isolated for over four years. This is the first time we’ve been safe and with a population large enough for him to meet other people.” He held up his hand to forestall any arguments. “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. If I give him this time, this chance, then maybe I’ll get to keep him when we do get together.”

Aaron knew he was saying it wrong, knew that ‘keeping’ someone was entirely the wrong way to say it – after all, how many unsubs had tried to ‘keep’ unwilling victims. But he knew, that after all of the other loves in his life, Spencer would most likely be the last. Not because what he felt for Spencer was the be all and end all of love, but because Aaron knew he wouldn’t have the heart to try. If he tried with Spencer and it didn’t work out, Aaron was fairly sure that he would never try to love again. He would pour any and all affection into his son, his family, and his friends, but he would not try for another lover. 

Maybe it would have been different if the infection hadn’t happened, but the last few years had taken their toll on him. Loosing Haley, loosing Kate, loosing Beth, each woman gone from his life had also taken a piece of him. The rest had been eaten away by the struggles of surviving and protecting Jack amongst this new world’s insanity. He had given what he could to his son, his friends and family in the BAU and NCIS. The little he kept for himself, he would offer to Spencer, but it would be the last bit left.

The four other men exchange glances. Rossi opened his mouth, closed it. John had empathy in his body language. Gibbs nodded.

Fornell snorted. “Beacon Hills just isn’t that big. He’s met everybody, when are you going to make your move?”

Aaron could only facepalm and walk away.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

“She’s beautiful, Tim.” Aaron bounced the sweet little bundle of newborn baby girl just to see her eyes widened just the tiniest bit. Spencer was practically curled around his back and shoulder, cooing at the baby girl in his arms. 

Nearly everyone who had come with them to Beacon Hills had gathered for the McGee twins’ baptism. Tim and Delilah hadn’t wanted anything too big, so it was as intimate as it could be with nearly thirty people in attendance.

“And he’s handsome just like his father,” Palmer chimed in from where he held the sweet girl’s twin brother.

“Thanks,” McGee answered absently, eyes bouncing between his new son and his new daughter. The smile on his face was sappy and dopey and all the more brilliant for those qualities. 

“Great job, Delilah,” Aaron complimented the new mother who was laid out on a lounger in the late summer shade. 

“She’s gorgeous,” Spencer murmured in agreement, eyes not moving from the baby girl, long fingers caressing her much smaller ones.

Delilah gave him a tired, but utterly happy, smile. “I’m just glad they’re both here.”

McGee fervently nodded.

Aaron mimicked him. Delilah’s pregnancy would have been high risk due to her disability even in the pre-zombie world, even more so with twins. In a post-zombie world it would have been utterly impossible, but thanks to them stumbling upon Beacon Hills, her pregnancy had been as safe as it could be. Doctors and nurses at Beacon Hills Medical had been by weekly to check up on her, nearly every mother in the community had been by the McGees’ apartment at one point, offering their support. Even the pack had been by often, focusing their extraordinary senses on her and the babies, much like they had done with Garcia and her baby. Stiles, and the other magic users, kept tabs on them as well.

Every new life in Beacon Hills was celebrated.

“Dad, quit hoggin’ her. It’s my turn!” 

Aaron bit back a laugh at Jack’s fierce frown. He knew his son’s frown was the mirror of his own. The one his team said worked to great effect. “Okay, okay, here.”

Jack carefully stood still as Aaron transferred Morgan McGee to his son’s arms. His own grin turned sappy and dopey as he watched his son press a gentle kiss to Morgan’s forehead. 

“Hi, baby,” Jack whispered, smiling down at her.

“I wanna see!” Caleb demanded, tugging on Jack’s jeans. He and his fathers had come by to pay their respects to the new twins and their parents. The rest of the pack had come and gone with their own respects. 

Aaron’s hands tensed, just in case Jack wobbled, but he didn’t as he squat down so that Caleb could see baby Morgan. The little werewolf pressed his nose into the baby’s soft cheek and inhaled. Just as with Bea, Caleb did not try to hold the baby, only wanted to be close while someone else held the newborn baby. Derek had quietly told the adults that packs did not allow werewolf children to hold human infants because their control wasn’t perfect. They had all understood and were quietly relieved.

“She smells good,” he murmured blissfully. Caleb ran one finger down her arm, grinning widely when she clutched her entire hand around his finger. 

“All babies do.” Stiles now had baby John in his arms, smiling down at him, pressing his own nose to downy soft hair. “Even to human noses.”

Derek rumbled, curled around his mate, smiling down at the infant over Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I want a baby too, papa.”

Stiles’ laughter jiggled baby John, making the baby grunt is displeasure. He was immediately soothed by Derek’s deep rumble. It had surprised the BAU when they learned that babies – regardless of two legs or four – responded positively to Derek’s deep reassuring rumbles. They had seen him rumble like that at prey animals, the adults would stay skittish, but the young usually calmed. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but neither daddy nor I have the parts to make you a baby.”

Caleb bent a hopeful, thoughtful look on his father. “You could magick me one?”

Aaron wasn’t the only one to wait with baited breath for the answer to that question. He could already see the questions on the tip of Spencer’s lips if the answer was “yes.”

Stiles shook his head again, still grinning. “Sorry, it doesn’t work like that either.”

Caleb carefully studied his father before making a grumpy noise and turning back baby Morgan. 

“You’ll have a cousin soon,” Derek tried to lessen the blow to his son, big hand reaching out to smooth down Caleb’s hair. 

Caleb brightened at the reminder that Lydia and Jackson were expecting their first child. 

Aaron knew that the pack was ridiculously excited about the new baby. Their first new addition since Caleb the year before. He never saw Lydia without one other pack member; most often Jackson, of course. As expected, the independent young woman was _not_ pleased with the constant attention from her packmates. Beacon Hills had been witness to more than one angry exchange between the expectant mother and a pack member. . . .

_”Jackson! I’m not going to fall over and impale myself with garden sheers.”_

_“The ground’s wet, you could!” he snarled back._

_While Aaron knew that Lydia was a capable woman, he sympathized with Jackson. He had been much the same with Haley when she was pregnant with Jack. Had been terrified that she would be hurt or that the baby, so fragile even inside his tough mother, would be hurt. Especially when the doctors had forced Haley onto bed rest that last month before she gave birth._

_“Jackson.” Lydia pronounced his name slowly, as if drawing it out would give her patience. “Stiles has me charmed a thousand ways to Sunday. I’m fine. I’m going to continue to be fine.”_

_“But--”_

_“No.” She pointed her finger. “Go. And take Erica with you.”_

_Aaron hadn’t realized Erica was in the vicinity until she sheepishly stepped around a building and loped off with Jackson. Both blondes were obviously reluctant and dragging their feet. But they leave they did._

_He hid his smile as Lydia blew air out in an exasperated sigh, “I swear.”_

“I can’t wait to hold my cousin,” Caleb sighed dreamily, his little hands opening and closing as if he could already feel the baby in his hands.

“Do you already know if the baby will be a werewolf?” Spencer asked, taking his turn with baby John, walking and bouncing to keep the baby soothed and asleep. After finally getting comfortable with Henry, because he had been too skittish to hold Jack, Spencer was now an old pro with babies and kids. No longer frightening them with his own worries or fears of dropping them. 

Derek shook his head. “Impossible to tell until after they’re born.”

Spencer’s multi-colored eyes sharpened. “How can you tell? Do they morph?”

Derek shook his head again. After all of these months, the alpha was finally comfortable enough with Spencer to answer his questions rather than hiding behind his mate or stealthily making his escape. “Smell; werewolves smell different.”

“Wait, does that mean that other supernatural races smell different from each other and humans?”

Aaron smiled to himself as he watched Spencer indulge his academic curiosity while comfortably holding the baby, long fingers tracing the tiny features before bringing baby John up for a kiss. Even though Spencer was advancing on Derek with more questions (ten questions for every answer Derek gave), he never forgot to lavish attention on the baby in his arms: kisses, touches, absent murmurings to soothe the baby as he listened to Derek’s answers.

“Spencer, stop hoggin’ Johnny.”

Aaron helplessly chuckled as his son turned that fearsome frown on Spencer, arms empty of baby Morgan, and now demanding baby John.

Spencer relented even as he rolled his eyes. “You should ask your dad for a sibling.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” 

Aaron, already stunned at Spencer’s words, was shocked stupid at Jack’s. 

Spencer gave Jack a strange look, transferring it to Aaron. “Why not?”

The sly look on his son’s face as he looked at Aaron then at Spencer was too old, too wise, too clever for Aaron’s peace of mind. “You should ask dad.”

After dropping that bomb, and taking baby John from Spencer, Jack had the nerve to _walk away_.

Every adult in the vicinity, the damn traitors, turned their backs and started up loud conversations or ran completely away. Leaving Aaron alone with a bemused Spencer.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You, young man, are in a heap of trouble.” Aaron hooked his arm around his son’s neck, refusing to let go when Jack tried to twist away.

Jack didn’t try too hard to get away because he didn’t use any of the self-defense techniques that he had learned these last few years. “Dad, c’mon, my friends are waiting for me.”

“Uh uh, Jack, we’re having a father/son talk.” He guided his son away from everyone else at the twins’ Baptismal party. Thankfully Spencer’s back was to them and he didn’t see Aaron dragging his son off. More than one set of eyes glanced away while their owners hid laughter. Traitors, all of them. He glared down at his son, the biggest turncoat of them all. “I had to do some fast talking to answer Spencer.”

To describe it more accurately, he had calmly stated that he was going to take his time if and when he decided to date again. Spencer had nodded but those brilliant eyes of his had gleamed with suspicion. Aaron had then called for a dignified retreat/diversion by gesturing to the small picnic lunch that everyone had been heading towards. It had been far from his most glorious moment, but being thrown to the sharks by his own son had discombobulated him. 

Jack had the temerity to roll his eyes. “You should have just kissed him.”

“And where did you get the idea that Spencer and I should be kissing?” Aaron had been beyond surprised that his son had picked up on his interest in Spencer. Was he being so obvious that even his thirteen year old son could see it? Let alone a trained profiler like Spencer?

Jack was hedging, Aaron could see it in the way he opened his mouth but didn’t talk. The way his eyes darted about for help.

“Jack.”

“I may . . . have heard some people . . . talk.”

Aaron heard those pauses loud and clear. Jack hadn’t been coached, but someone had put a bug in his son’s ear about his relationship status and Spencer. He sighed. “Jack.”

Jack leaned into his side, his arm dropping to wrap around his son’s shoulders. “I just want you to be happy.”

Aaron sighed again. “I know, buddy, I know.”

Jack turned so that he could wrap both arms around Aaron’s waist. 

Aaron hugged his son back. “I guess you like Spencer, huh?”

“Yeah.” 

Aaron could feel the hesitation in Jack. “It’s okay, say whatever you want to, Jack. I won’t be angry.”

“It’s just.” Jack heaved a sigh, refusing to look up. “I think he fits you better. I mean I liked Beth, but sometimes she just didn’t get you. Aunt Jess said it’s normal to worry about you because your job was dangerous, but Spencer didn’t worry, still doesn’t. You know, because he knows what the job is, he knows when he should worry. Like when they couldn’t find you and that Reaper guy had gotten to you. It was the only time he said he was worried about you.” Jack finally looked up at him and grinned. “Because Morgan was usually there instead.”

Aaron huffed a rueful laugh. Morgan was proportionally in more scrapes than the entire team had been. Sure Aaron had been stabbed by the Reaper and was near the car explosion in New York, but Morgan had been shot at, stabbed, and tortured. More than once. Thank God his friend had the resilience of a cockroach.

“But Beth acted like every time you left, it would be the last time she would see you.” Jack frowned, the same frown Aaron had seen too many times in the mirror before they found Beacon Hills. “It was weird. It made me feel weird.”

Aaron could only hug his son harder. “I’m sorry you felt like that.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders, still staying in his arms. “It got better when we got here but then she was worried about the pack.” He rolled his eyes. “She hid it from you until she left, but she was always telling me I shouldn’t play with Caleb or go near the pack.”

It was Aaron’s turn to frown. He hadn’t known that. Before he could respond, Jack nodded decisively. “Yeah, I think Spencer’s a better fit for you.”

He sighed, patting his son on his back. “Okay.”

“So you’ll talk to him?” Jack graced him with a wide, hopeful smile.

Aaron nodded. “Yeah.”

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

John Stilinski’s fifty-fifth birthday was a town-wide event.

Because John’s birthday coincided with another successful harvest – enough to last through the upcoming winter with plenty to spare – Peter Burke had declared those two reasons enough to have a fall party. The pack once again hunted outside of the walls to provide fresh meat for the party. The moonshine that Rossi, Gibbs, Arnie McDonald, and a bunch of the other old timers had finally perfected was broken out. 

People were in their Sunday best, but hilariously, because the celebration was being held on the lacrosse field, most people were barefoot. Children ran amok, laughing, playing. Those with musical talents took turns leading each other into song while others danced. The bonfire threw cheerful light and shadows on the revelers. Everyone in Beacon Hills was there except those that drew the short straw for guard duty on the wall and the power plant, however, the second shift would be leaving soon so that they could come join the party. 

No presents were brought to the sheriff, but John smiled and laughed, face alight with joy with every townsperson who came by to wish him a happy birthday. Stiles, Caleb, and Derek never strayed far from him. Bringing him food and drink, showering him with either effusive (Stiles and Caleb) or quiet (Derek) affection. The rest of the pack hovered about him, moving in and out of his presence, but were equally affectionate. The wolves, especially, with touches and hugs and even a cheeky kiss here and there.

John basked in it.

Aaron basked in the party too. Not just because the moonshine left him warm and glowing, but because the bonfire was cozy against the crisp night air, his friends and family surrounded him, reveling and relaxed. His son was sprawled out in the grass, exhausted slumber after all of the running around and good food in his belly. The other children were scattered about their parents and friends, using them and each other as pillows. 

And because Spencer hadn’t left his side all night, sharing his food, moonshine, and laughter. Was right at this moment a warm, comfortable weight against his side, giggling into his ear, soft curls brushing against his cheek.

Aaron tightened the arm wrapped around Spencer’s waist, couldn’t help but stroke the soft skin under his fingertips. They had slipped under Spencer’s shirt the first time the younger man had laughed at something JJ had said and there they had stayed. If Aaron had been stronger he would have removed those fingertips, but the smooth, warm skin under them had been too tempting.

He was jostled out of his reverie by Spencer’s tugging hand. “Spencer?”

“Come with me?” he softly asked as he climbed to his feet. His eyes were bright, but the set of his lips was nervous.

Aaron could do nothing but follow, wondering at the fingers entwined with his own. 

Spencer led them just out of the light of the bonfire, away from everyone else, turning to him with such nervous determination that Aaron knew what was coming. He could only hope this conversation worked out the way he wanted.

“Hotch, you’ve been . . .” 

Aaron barely caught him as Spencer surged towards him, but the kiss was soft and sweet. Lithe body in his arms; clever fingers in his hair, holding him with gentleness, firmness, and a little bit of excited tugging, the very essence of Spencer in that touch.

Spencer tore his lips away, eyes holding a hint of wildness even as they alternatively stared into his eyes then down at his lips. “You keep touching me!”

Aaron would have apologized but Spencer was kissing him again, only to tear away again a moment later. As if he couldn’t stop kissing Aaron but was so riled up he couldn’t stop talking either.

“And looking at me with those eyes of yours!”

Aaron’s chuckle was smothered by Spencer’s lips. Spencer almost pulled away again, but this time he cupped Spencer’s jaw, keeping the younger man in the kiss, deepening it. Pulled him in closer, their bodies tightly fit and perfect together. This time it was him that pulled away. “What do you want, Spencer?”

The question cleared the clouds from Spencer’s eyes, brought back clarity and nervousness. Those amazing fingers clenched in his hair but the ones on his shoulder plucked at the fabric under them. “A lot, Hotch,” Spencer finally answered, voice low but certain. “I want a lot with you.”

Aaron could read Spencer’s wants only because of all of these years as colleagues, as friends. The only serious relationship Spencer had ever had was with Maeve, lost before they could even really meet face-to-face. The younger man was taking the leap, grabbing his courage and asking for everything. It was all written in the way Spencer stared at him, desperately wanting him to understand. Written in the way his body melted in his arms, but also in the way he gravitated not just to Aaron but also towards Jack. Caring for both of them in his own little ways. “I want the same things with you.”

Spencer’s smile was breathtaking.

Aaron stole another kiss before taking Spencer’s hand. He only looked away to search out Jack. He spotted his son passed out beside Rossi. The other man winked at him but then solemnly nodded as he placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, his son peaceful in sleep on the still lush autumn grass. Everyone else was carefully not looking at them, but smiles lingered on this lips and in their eyes.

Aaron nodded back in thanks even as his feet continued towards home with Spencer in his arms.

Loving Spencer through the night was an experience in guidance but so much loving pleasure. The younger man was so very eager but his inexperience showed. Spencer’s sweetly erotic sounds made Aaron insane, forcing him to gentle hands that wanted to grip too hard, to move too fast. Aaron slowed them down, gave them time to savor the taste of skin, the feel of limbs entwined. Of sliding deep into Spencer’s pliant, gasping body; of reveling in the feel of Spencer’s clutching hands and shocked-with-pleasure eyes. 

They fell asleep as the night began to glow with the beginnings of the day, Aaron curled around Spencer. Spencer seemed to luxuriate in the curve of his body, snuggling in, wrapping Aaron’s arms tighter around his body, a little smug smile on his lips. Body supple with sleep and satiation. Aaron had not felt this relaxed, but simultaneously powerful, as this in a long time. Holding onto Spencer, giving him warmth and protection, loving and loved.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I wasn’t drunk,” Spencer announced stubbornly, every line in his face daring Aaron to refute him.

Aaron blinked up at him. It was late morning from the sunshine coming through the window. He had slowly woken up, Spencer silent and still in his arms. But, as if he was just waiting for Aaron to wake and “make his escape,” Spencer had pounced on him as soon as he so much as twitched. The younger man had draped himself across Aaron’s chest, weight pressing him down into the bed, keeping him there.

Declaration made, Spencer was now warily watching him. Still absolutely daring Aaron to make some kind of excuse. To escape from their bed with false words or reassurances that did not ring true. As if Spencer was waiting to be rejected in the harsh morning light.

Aaron simply smiled instead. “Neither was I.”

Spencer softened, those sharp eyes taking in Aaron’s relaxed posture, his open expression. Aaron reached out to smooth a lock of Spencer’s hair, leaned upward to press a kiss to his shoulder, his jaw. His lips. Aaron wrapped his arms around his lover, relearning curves and lines in the sunshine what he had first learned by moonlight.

A smile broke through, Spencer’s entire body relaxing, those amazing hands coming up to cup his shoulder, his hair. His expression was filled with joy, bright with happiness. “I love you.”

“I know.” Aaron couldn’t resist the pop culture tease, not bothering to hide the smug tilt of his mouth nor the bright joy in his own eyes.

Spencer’s eyes widened, the shy smile blooming into a mischievous grin.

Aaron kissed that grin onto his own lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

While Spencer had never voiced anything in their time together to Aaron, any fears that he may have had about Jack accepting their relationship were dispelled when Jack’s face lit up when he saw them in bed later that afternoon.

He had burst in, expression fully expectant. Obviously someone had said something to Jack about what he might find in Aaron’s bedroom. Aaron was going to find out who and set Spencer _and_ Jack on them to take his revenge for him. He still laughed every time he thought of Spencer’s revenge against Morgan. It had taken Morgan _days_ to figure out how to stop his phone from emitting Spencer’s shrill screams every time it rang. He had finally bribe Penelope into not only fixing it but also into _not_ telling anyone she was the one who fixed it because he couldn’t figure out how. Between Spencer’s devious mind and Jack’s innocent face, the revenge would be sweet indeed.

His thirteen year old son actually bent an approving look onto him, taking in their entwined bodies, covered only by a thin blanket and the sheets. “You finally talked to him! Good job, Dad!”

Aaron shook his head in exasperation, hoping that his son didn’t totally understand the innuendo in his words but figured it was a lost cause, as his lover blushed and buried his head in a pillow. “Thanks, Jack,” he drolly answered.

Jack leaned over the bed, just enough to wrap his arms around Spencer’s shoulders, completely undeterred by Spencer’s embarrassed hiding. “Welcome to the family!”

Spencer lifted his head, surprised expression melted into one of happiness, as one hand fought its way free to pat the boy on his back. “Thanks, Jack.”

“I love you,” his son artlessly added, not seeing the utter shock on every line of Spencer’s face.

Before Aaron could worry that it might be too soon for either of them, those lines eased into joy as Spencer twisted to wrap his arms around Jack, hugging him back fiercely. “I love you too, Jack.”

Aaron wrapped his arms around them both and smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

This wedding was as different from the last one as it could be. 

No church. No tailored suits. No upper crust society guests. No bride.

Spencer was radiant in the late afternoon light.

The dappled light kissed his hair but lit up his multicolored eyes. His smile was breathtaking.

Jack, ring bearer and best man both, squirmed in delight from his position beside their officiant, Dr. Deaton. 

Their friends and family awaited with joyous smiles and shining tears. 

Aaron’s heart was glad and settled, soaring with love, but grounded in Spencer and their son.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this ending. I'm so sorry it took longer than I promised. Seriously, this part did NOT want to be written and I'm not 100% happy with it. I may have to write some codas for it. I hope you still enjoy it.


End file.
